What They Didn't Tell Him
by Mademoiselle Obvious
Summary: AU. What if there was more to the prophecy? What if everything Harry had come to believe in was untrue? VoldyHarry slash. FINALLY FINISHED.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**A/N:** Ahholyshiz! It's back! Hurrah hurrah. has decided to allow me to repost the story! W00t. However..o-o; I haven't written anything new.. /cough/ Sorry...

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_Harry sat in thought for a moment, then asked, "So if all of his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort _could_ be killed?"_

_"Yes, I think so," said Dumbledore. _"But I also think that, if given back his Horcruxes and thus regaining the parts of his soul, he will become more human….More like the Tom Riddle of old. But to return the remaining pieces of his soul, it will take uncommon skill and power." Dumbledore gave Harry a sidelong glance.

Understanding the direction this conversation was taking, Harry blurted out, _"But I haven't got uncommon skill and power."_

_"Yes, you have," said Dumbledore firmly. "You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can—"_

_"I know!" said Harry impatiently. "I can love!" It was only with difficulty that he stopped himself adding, "Big deal!"_

_"Yes, Harry, you can love," said Dumbledore, who looked as though he knew perfectly well what Harry had just refrained from saying. "Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual you are, Harry."_

_"So, when the prophecy says that I'll have 'power the Dark Lord knows not,' it just means—love?" asked Harry, feeling a bit let down._

"Yes," replied Dumbledore, his eyes losing a bit of their sparkle. Harry gave him a suspicious glance before turning back to his tea. Dumbledore continued to watch him, before heaving a sigh and opening his mouth. "Harry…I had hoped that you would come to the conclusion yourself…But it seems you need a little…help." Looking up from his tea, Harry gaped at the Headmaster in surprise.

"What are you talking about, professor?" he questioned.

"Harry, when the prophecy means love…it doesn't just mean your mother's love…" At Harry's blank look, Dumbledore continued. "The prophecy means…That to defeat Voldemort…"

"Professor, what is it?" Harry asked, his anxiety growing.

"I'm sorry Harry, this is just…difficult." Dumbledore said. "Perhaps it will be easier if I just 'get it off my chest,' as the quaint Muggle saying goes. You see Harry, you don't know _all_ of the prophecy. There was a part…that was so…Well, I'm sure you will understand why I hesitated to tell you. To defeat Lord Voldemort, you must first love him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one..

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The sound of china shattering into millions of pieces against a stone floor was all that could be heard. Harry stared dumbly at the broken teacup before turning back to Dumbledore. "S-sorry…What? Did..did you just say…love…Voldemort…?" Harry stuttered.

With a quick _Reparo_ the teacup was whole once again and sent back to it's cupboard with a slight hand gesture from the headmaster. "Yes Harry. Love. I know how hard this must be for you. Your enemy of 16 years, and now…"

Harry continued to gaze at Albus, shock clouding his electric-green eyes. "You can't be serious! This has to be…some sort of…joke! Yes, that must be it!"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "No, Harry. I really am terribly sorry. So terribly, terribly sorry. You're a young man, so vibrant and full of life. To be chained to such a monster…it is a hard destiny that the Fates have chosen to give you, dear boy."

Shaking his head in denial, Harry turned to stare down at his lap. "No…" he mumbled to himself, "It can't be true…He's so old and ugly and…and _evil_!"

"It is true that….Tom….is perhaps a bit older than you. As for his looks…I believe that as he regains the missing pieces of his soul, he will come to look more like the Tom that attended Hogwarts. The same goes for his…disposition. The more pieces of his soul come together…the more…humane he will become."

"Not that he was terribly nice as a child." Harry muttered.

Albus spared Harry a slight frown before continuing, "Perhaps…he wasn't as kind as he could have been. But take into account his childhood. Tom always was..at heart-" he ignored Harry's snort, "Desperate for…recognition of himself….of his..for lack of a better word, greatness. You must keep in mind that growing up he was just another nameless face in a sea of orphans. No one ever commended him on a job well done. So…he was forced to attract attention using…other methods. I believe that…with the right encouragement…a new…and improved….Tom Riddle will rise from the ashes of Lord Voldemort."

Harry stared in stunned silence at this delve into Voldemorts psyche. "Professor..are you…telling me that Voldemort….really isn't that bad a guy!"

Dumbledore chuckled at Harry's disapproval. "Yes..I suppose I am."

"_Professor!_ He _killed_ my parents!" Harry shouted, aghast at the headmaster.

"Harry…" Dumbledore started, his eyes twinkling gently with tears. "Tom…didn't…kill…your parents."

Harry stared at Dumbledore. He realized—in a far off corner of his mind—that he seemed to be doing an awful lot of that tonight. "What are you talking about! Of course he killed them!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "He didn't. Though, make no mistake that he _intended _to kill them that night. However…he didn't arrive in time."

Harry gaped at his professor. "But…if _he_ didn't do it…then…who did?"

The normally friendly, kindly-old-man twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes had been replaced with a slightly maniacal sparkle. Harry unconsciously moved back in his seat.

"_I_ killed your parents." Dumbledore stated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one

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Harry leapt off of his chair and stood trembling over the large desk in front of Dumbledore. "What the _hell_ are you talking about!" he shouted. "_You_ killed my parents! Are you insane, professor! There's no way you killed my parents! What is this, some sort of sick joke!"

Dumbledore gazed at Harry over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "No, my dear boy, I'm afraid it's not a joke. I did, in fact, kill your parents. I must say," he mumbled, a bit to himself, "That Tom was quite peeved at me. Why, after that, he must have sent hundreds of hitmen after me. And then, when they failed, why the Dark Lord himself deigned to come 'off me'" Harry gawked at the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Uh…Sir, are you alright!" he asked. He was actually getting quite concerned over the state of Dumbledore's mind.

"What? Oh yes, I'm quite fine. Thank you for asking. Now, what was I talking about?"

"Maybe I should just go get Madam Pomfrey…" Harry trailed off at Dumbledore's frown.

"I _told_ you, I'm _quite_ fine." He put a finger to his chin in thought. "Let's see…Ah yes! Your parents. You see, Harry, your parents…they were well…an _inconvenience_."

Harry slowly backed towards the door, trying not to make any sudden movements to turn the crazed headmasters' attention back to him.

"Ah…" breathed Dumbledore as he took out a small box, "Lemon drops…Such a lovely confection, don't you agree, Fawkes?" When Dumbledore turned to look at the phoenix, Harry took his chance and darted out of the door.

He stood for a moment in front of the gargoyle, trying to catch his breath—which had become quite erratic as the headmasters speech had progressed. _Oh God_, he thought to himself, _What the _hell_ is going on? I need help…_ And with that last thought, he turned and headed determinedly towards the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey would know what to do…


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one

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Harry burst into the hospital wing shouting at the top of his lungs, "Madam Pomfrey, something's wrong with Professor Dumbledore!"

The Medi-Witch looked up from the patient she was attending with a frown. "Mr. Potter, I'm _trying_ to heal Ms. Swansons arm! If you wouldn't mind waiting for the few minutes it will take me to finish up, then please, do sit down!"

Harry scowled at the pale, 4th Year Ravenclaw before settling himself on one of the empty beds. He occupied his waiting time with mulling over everything the headmaster had said. Why would Dumbledore say he'd killed Harry's parents! It made no sense…Unless…Harry sat up straighter in his chair. Yes, that had to be it! Dumbledore was under the Imperious Curse! But who was powerful enough to put the curse on Dumbledore? He was the strongest wizard of the century! Nothing got past him.

He was startled out of his reverie by Madam Pomfrey's loud snap, "Now, Mr. Potter, what was it that had you crashing into my hospital like a herd of wild hippogriffs?"

Harry spared a single thought for wondering whether or not hippogriffs traveled in herds or not before answering her question. "It's Professor Dumbledore! I think he's under the Imperious Curse!"

Madame Pomfrey scoffed. "Mr. Potter, don't be ridiculous! _Who_ would put the Imperious on _Dumbledore_!"

"Well, Vold-" Harry cut himself off. Since when was Madam Pomfrey so terse? Could she-? It was possible. "Madam Pomfrey, are you feeling all right?"

"Of course I am, Potter! Are _you_ feeling all right?" she screeched.

Harry stared at her. What _was_ her problem? "Now, Mr. Potter, _do_ tell me what is bothering you. Then, kindly, get _out_!"

"Uh…" stuttered Harry, "Well. Dumbledore-" he paused, waiting for the '_Professor_ Dumbledore, Harry' that always accompanied his lack of proper respect. It didn't come. Harry was flabbergasted. Since when did any teacher allow him to get away with using just a professors name? This most certainly cinched it. Madam Pomfrey was also under the Imperious. But _who_? Who would put the teachers under one of the Unforgivables? And-Wait a moment. If Dumbledore and Pomfrey had been cursed, then who was to say that all the others weren't? He needed help. He needed his trusty friends. He needed Hermione and Ron.

"Er…Dumbledore…Well…He uh..He wanted to know..if..you..uh..had…any…Lemon drops! Yes, that's it! He wanted to know if you had any lemon drops, because he's running low!"

Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at him. She didn't believe him. Harry tensed, preparing to make a mad dash for the door. But then her brow smoothed out. "Tell him I don't have any. I'll make a note to get some more for him next time I'm in Hogsmeade."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, alright, ma'am. I'll just….uh…be..going now!" And with that, he leapt out the door, pelting full speed down the corridors.

As he turned a corner, he was surprised to find himself on the ground, on top of something hard and black.

With a squeak, he realized that he was, in fact, lying on top of the most feared wizard in all of Hogwarts.

There was a growl beneath him, and then that oh-so-silky voice was snarling, "_Mister Potter_. I should have known. Now, if you wouldn't _mind_ getting off of me, I'll be taking 20 points from Gryffindore, and then I'll be on my way."

Harry stared down at his Potions' professor, before gasping in realization. _Snape!_ Snape was acting like his normal evil, snarky self! That meant he hadn't been cursed! Snape would help him! He had too..

"Snape!" he cried. He smirked softly at the surprise apparent in his professors face. Well, he supposed he _was_ acting a bit too oddly.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "_Potter!_" he mimicked.

Scowling at his professor, Harry leaned down so that he could whisper in the older mans ear. "Professor, I have something I need to talk to you about! But it needs to be done in _private_!" He hoped that Snape would pick up on his urgency, for once, and just do as he asked.

Apparently, Snape _was_ picking up on Harry's vibes, and all he did was raise his eyebrow higher.

"Potter!" he barked. "I do believe I asked you to _get off of me_!" He waited until Harry had clambered off before turning his dark glare upon him. "Detention! Now! Come with me!" Harry breathed a sigh of relief before following his teacher. Snape would know what to do. Snape would take care of things.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one

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Hurrying after a stalking Snape was not a fun task. Harry, though lithe and strong from so many hours practicing Quiddich, had short legs, and he was having trouble keeping up with Snape's long-legged stride. Finally he swallowed his pride and took off at a steady jogging pace.

Snape sneered back at him a few times, but then concentrated on weaving his way through the maze of the dungeons. Harry was not at all surprised that when Snape finally did stop, it was in front of a portrait of a dangerous looking wizard. Stepping closer, Harry read the tiny lettering inscribed on a piece of pounded gold. _Zechariahs Satchwell—Inventor of the Modern Cauldron._ Harry sniggered at the obviousness of this entrance.

"Something _funny_, Mr. Potter?" breathed a voice behind Harry. He snapped around and found himself face-to-face with the potions master.

He was about to respond with a scathing remark before remembering why he was here. It would not do to have Snape mad at him. Well, madder than usual. "No, sir, nothing is funny."

Snape looked a bit surprised at the polite response, but he quickly regained his composure. "Well then, right this way….Mr. Potter." He leaned forward and whispered a password at the portrait.

As the painting swung open, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit excited. The most feared person at all of Hogwarts, and he was about to see his private quarters. What would it be? Gloomy stone rooms filled with black tapestries to keep out the cold? Mysterious objects pickled in vinegar, just waiting to be put into some gruesome potion? Shrunken heads?

Harry was severely disappointed. The rooms were stone, of course they were stone, this was a _castle_, wasn't it? And although the carpets on the floor were black, they were also thick and soft-looking. And as for the tapestries on the wall…slate gray. There was furniture, but it was all wood—hard-backed chairs, with no sign of a cushion in sight. All in all, it was very stark. Harry thought it was exceedingly boring.

Harry took a seat in one of the uncomfortable looking chairs.

"_Do_ have a seat, Mr. Potter. By all means, make yourself comfortable!" Snape sneered.

Harry snorted and smiled at his professor. Snape scowled at him and drew out his wand. Trying unsuccessfully to hide his flinch, Harry was embarrassed when Snape cast a quick but strong privacy and silencing spell.

"Now, Potter, I do believe that you were trying to hint something to me in the corridor. Spit it out and then get out of my chambers."

"There's something wrong with Dumbledore!-"

"_Professor_ Dumbledore, you impudent brat!" Ah yes, this was _definitely_ the real Snape.

"Fine. There's something wrong with _Professor_ Dumbledore! I was in his office..and he started on about how…how" Harry shuddered at the thought, "He said…I..had to _love_ Voldemort!" Harry was rewarded with Snape's unbelieving snort.

"The old fool _told_ you that!" Snape cried. At Harry's nod Snape fell into a chair. "I can't believe it! He was supposed to wait until you were out of Hogwarts!"

Harry gawked at Snape. "You _knew_ about this!"

"Of course I did! I'm one of the old bastard's favorites! He tells me everything!" Snape yelled.

"Er..But, sir! That's not even all of it!" Harry shouted. "He started on about how…how..he'd…killed my parents! I think he's been put under the Imperious Curse!"

Snape lowered his head into his hands. "Oh Potter.." he said, his voice surprisingly soft, "If you only knew the half of it…"

Harry blinked at Snape. "What..?"

"Potter…Harry..He's not under Imperious. He never has been. I'm afraid that not even Lord Voldemort himself could put the daft old fool under one. No…What you saw up there was all Dumbledore. The _real_ Albus Dumbledore. Oh Harry…He really _did_ murder your parents…You see…Harry…The headmaster of our school…the most powerful wizard of the century…he's insane."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one

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"Say what!" Harry cried.

Snape took a deep, somehow malicious, breath and turned to scowl at Harry. "Last time I checked, _Potter_-" _Ah_, thought Harry, _back to surnames, are we?_ "There was nothing wrong with your _hearing_."

Harry frowned at his professor. "Oh bugger off, Snape. We're both adults here-" he admirably ignored Snape's snort, "And I think it's about time you started talking to me like one!"

"Why, Mr. Potter," breathed Snape, "You'd like to be treated as an adult, would you? Like to be let in on all the little secrets the rest of us have been _protecting_ you from? Think you're old enough to take responsibility for your actions?"

Harry nodded tentatively. "Uh…Yes..?"

"What, now we're not so sure?" Harry was disgusted with his tone. "Well then," Snape settled into his chair and clapped his hands together, "Let's get started!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one

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"Your first question?" Snape asked.

Harry stared, bewildered, at his professor. Someone was actually going to explain things to him? "Uh..Well…I suppose…"

"Spit it out boy! I haven't got all night!"

"Fine! No need to be mean about it..Well…First things first, then. Why-"

"Oh for heaven's sake! This will take _entirely_ too long if you continue to mumble like that! Fine, foolish boy, I'm going to talk, and you will listen. If, at the end of my narrative, you have any questions, you may ask them! Got it? Good."

Harry nodded mutely at Snape. _Whatever_.

"Fine. Now.." Snape paused.

"I thought you didn't have all night!" said Harry irritably.

"I am _marshalling_ my thoughts! Patience is a virtue! Now. Albus Dumbledore, as you well know, is the greatest wizard of the century, perhaps of the millennium.

Such a great press of power upon one's consciousness is a heavy burden to bear. As a young man, Dumbledore controlled it easily. However..as he grew older..Well, you've seen how the old man dresses.

He…lost it. Very few know that Albus Dumbledore is hanging onto his sanity by a thread. A thread that is slowly but surely unraveling. Back when…the Dark Lord ruled..back when you were just a child-" he smirked, "Well, _more_ childish—He had a bit of a firmer grip. But, not _much_ firmer. For a while there…We—McGonagall, myself, and a few select others—had to..keep him away. For some reason, Dumbledore thought that _he_ was …the Dark Lord."

Harry gaped. "_What_? You're telling me that Dumbledore-"

"_Professor_ Dumbledore!" Snape barked. Harry thought it was nice to know that even in the midst of such a revelation, Snape was still sound enough of mind to correct him.

"Right. You're telling me that Professor Dumbledore thought he was Voldemort!"

Snape winced at the usage of the Dark Lord's name. "Yes, Potter, that is _exactly_ what I _just_ said. _Ex_cellent job."

Harry scowled but kept silent.

"What, nothing to say? I'm shocked!"

"Oh, can it! Would you just get on with the rest of the story, Snape!"

His professor frowned at him. "No patience. None at all."

"Well ex_cuse_ me! There's just a Dark Lord and all his minions trying to kill me, and now I've got some insane old man telling me to lo-" Harry choked off. He had almost forgotten what Dumbledore had told him.

"To _love_ said Dark Lord?" Snape's voice was maliciously amused. Harry made a faint squeaking noise.

"Could we please not talk about that!" he demanded.

"Hum. I suppose, since you asked so nicely. However, I don't see why how it's fair to leave all the explaining up to me. Damn old coot."

Harry realized something. "Hey!" he cried out, thoroughly surprised, "You're _avoiding_ my questions!"

Snape snorted. "I most certainly am not! After all that I've faced, you think telling a little story frightens me!"

"Yes." said Harry simply. "Now, are you gonna buck up and face your fears, or are you going to hand me off to someone else?"

Snape scowled. "I'm not afraid." he muttered. Suddenly he straightened out, his back ram-rod straight. He breathed a deep sigh. Harry stared in confusion before realizing that Snape was preparing himself. _Alright.._ "Now then. To continue with the narrative that was so _rudely_ interrupted." He glared pointedly at Harry.

"Hey! I didn't do anythi-" Harry frowned at Snape. "You're doing it again. You're avoiding it."

Snape looked mad that Harry had found him out so quickly. "Fine." he huffed. Snape was quiet for a while.

Harry coughed. "Uhm. Professor..? Maybe it would help if you..uh..Said it all quickly..? Or maybe just summarized…?"

Snape glared derisively at him before nodding. "Yes, that might be a good idea. So, because Dumbledore thought he was Voldemort, he had the urge to kill you. Well, none of us thought that he was doing so awfully. So, we left him alone for a while…" Snape trailed off. "That's when..He attacked Lily's house. He killed her. And your dog of a father, I might add."

Harry noticed that Snape didn't sound even remotely sad that his "dog of a father" had been killed. Though, he couldn't much blame him.

"So, that's why he killed your parents. Because he wanted to stop the prophecy."

"Er." said Harry. "But…If Dumble-Professor Dumbledore, was the one who tried to kill me-"

"Fool!" spat Snape. "Did I ever say that the old man tried to kill you! He would have, of course, but by the time his wand was raised against you, the Dark Lord had arrived. He was _very_ mad about what Dumbledore had done." Snape shuddered minutely, as though remembering his lord's displeasure. "It was the Dark Lord who cast the Killing Curse upon you. Though…it was not aimed at you. He was trying to kill Dumbledore, but he was distracted and instead hit you…So, Potter, any questions?"

Harry thought about it. "No..I don't think so. Wait! I went to the Hospital Wing to see Madam Pomfrey, and I think she _was_ under the Imperious!"

Snape gaped for a moment. "Poppy..? Oh no. If she's been put under, then there's no telling how many he's gotten to."

"Who got to her..? Dumble-Professor Dumbledore?"

"Of course! This school is no longer safe for you, Potter. You must leave immediately." He stood up and stalked around the room.

"What! Where am I supposed to go! I don't even have any of my stuff!"

"Stuff? _Stuff_! Your life is in danger, and you're wondering what you're going to do about your _stuff_! There is no time! You must leave _now_!"

"What about you? Are you coming with!"

"No, I can't go! I must stay here."

"Well…Where am I going to go? The Dursley's won't let me stay with them the whole school year!"

"Fool! You won't be going to stay with those incompetent Muggles! _He_ was the one to put the wards up to protect you there, he can pull them down! No, you must go to the safest place possible."

"But…I thought that was Hogwarts.."

"Of course not! You must go somewhere _he_ would never think to look."

"Wait a second…when you say _he_, are you talking about Voldemort, or Dumbledore?"

Snape made an inarticulate noise. "Dumbledore is perhaps the most unsafe person to be around at the moment! You're going to stay with the Dark Lord."

Harry stared. "Excuse me! He's trying to kill me!"

"And Dumbledore isn't?"

"I don't know! He hasn't yet!"

Snape sighed. "Boy, you are perhaps the stupidest person I have yet met. The Dark Lord has been in hiding for _years_. Although when he was younger he enjoyed maiming and killing and such, as he's grown older he has..mellowed out..a bit."

"But, then-Don't be ridiculous! Who has been trying to kill me for all these years!"

"Have you not been listening to a thing I've said! _Dumbledore_! Although he has his—brief—moments of lucidity, for the most part he roams between his belief that he is the Dark Lord, and the insanity that is the Dumbledore we know. He's discovered some sort of spell—none of us are quite sure what it is—and he now takes on a guise that he fancies looks like the Dark Lord." Snape coughed derisively. "The _real_ lord..well..he looks..a bit more.._attractive_, I suppose you would say." Snape coughed again. "But Dumbledore, masquerading as the Dark Lord, has been terrorizing wizardkind for the better part of six years."

"But" interrupted Harry, "What about the Death Eaters?"

"Ah yes," breathed Snape. "Most of them have no idea that they are serving the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Only the _real_ Dark Lords highest-ranking minions know. And they serve as spies for him."

"Are _you_-"

"Why of course! And Lucious Malfoy, obviously. The others, I'm not particularly sure of. The last in-person meeting was years ago. We only communicate with the Dark Lord in times of dire need. I believe this would register as a time of dire need. We need to get you out of here _now_. Dumbledore could come down here at any mome-"

Snape was interrupted by a sharp knocking on the door. "Severus? Are you in there? I need to talk to you about our resident hero. Mr. Potter was rather startled by the news, and I'm afraid he may do something irrational."

Harry froze when the headmaster's benign tones reached his ears.

Snape silently glided towards a large armoire. He pulled out a small piece of dark cloth, muttered a quick spell over it and moved back to Harry. "When you touch this," he whispered into Harry's ear, "It will portkey you directly to the Dark Lord. Hopefully I will be able to arrive soon after. Then I will try to explain the rest to you. If-" he broke off and took a breath, "If I am not able to…come..then someone else will explain it to you.

I know that we haven't gotten along, but..Good luck, Potter." He held out the cloth.

Harry stared at his professor. "Thank you professor, for everything. Good luck.."

And then he reached out and plucked the portkey from Snapes hand.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one

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There was the sound of a door being opened and then Harry could dimly hear Dumbledore shouting something, but then his navel was being tugged forward, and the rest of his body forced to follow.

Harry hated portkeys. Hated them with a vengeance.

The tugging stopped. He had arrived at his destination.

As much as he hated portkeys, he hated arriving even more. Those moments of vulnerability, when he was disoriented from the trip, where he could be ambushed and killed, were damned to the deepest bowels of Hell by him.

He blinked. There was a floor beneath his hands. It was black and white checkered. Harry thought this was a very odd floor for a Dark Lord.

When he realized that his most recently eaten meal was, in fact, going to stay in his stomach, Harry worked up his courage and looked up. At a wall. It was a black wall, with nothing on it except for the paint. Harry thought this was more like it. Although, perhaps, he had been expecting something more…tyranty…at least it was black. With all that he had been through—especially both Dumbledores and Snapes, though Snapes were slight, reassurances that the Dark Lord was not at all such a bad guy—he wouldn't have been a bit surprised if the room had been bright pink, with a sparkly floor and pictures or rainbows and unicorns on the wall.

As Harry was staring at the wall, he became aware of a slight hissing noise. He turned around. And then leapt away. There was a rather large snake behind him.

There was soft laughter from somewhere in the room. Harry jerked around, putting his back to a wall, and stared into the corners, trying to decipher just where the voice was coming from.

"Who-who's there!" he stuttered.

"_Foolisssh boy. I'm right here._"

Harry squeaked a bit when he realized that the snake was talking to him. The large snake. The large, deadly looking snake. The large deadly looking snake that was now slithering towards him.

"Eep!" he said.

"Oh _boy, do not be afraid. I do not bite. Though, I am perhapsss the ressssident in this houssse that will make you that promisssse._" The snake chuckled a bit at it's own wit.

Harry was suddenly very keen to meet some Death Eaters. Anyone—even Voldemort—would be better than this snake.

"_Sssstill not talking? Come now, you really don't want me to fetch my massster, do you?_"

Harry suddenly realized that he very much did not want to meet her owner. He had a sinking suspicion of just who this snake's owner was. After all, how many wizards had large deadly looking snakes hanging about their house?

"_Er._" he replied. "_You-you're Nagini, aren't you?_"

"_Oooo. Brilliant! Good job, Harry Potter. And if you've figured out who I am, then you mussst realizzze who my massster isss, no?_"

"_Voldemort._"

Soft clapping permeated Harry's ears. He whirled towards the sound.

"Ah, I knew you would be smart."

"_Massster, he is quite brilliant, issss he not?_" Nagini questioned.

"Why yes. I knew I should never have doubted you." The man—_Voldemort, _screeched Harry's mind—turned back to him. "What a pleasure to meet you."

Harry stared. This..this could _not_ be Lord Voldemort. This man…he was tall and slender, though Harry was betting that under those dark robes the man was fit. His skin was pale and, though slight wrinkles crinkled his eyes and the corners of his mouth, he still looked young. His hair was black, with a sprinkling of gray and silver hairs—Harry felt that he could almost _count_ the hairs, Voldemort was invading so much of his space—but instead of making him look old, the silver and gray made him look distinguished. More, Harry realized, attractive.

Harry stopped breathing. He had just called the Dark Lord of the Wizarding World—though, if he was to believe Snape, that was actually Dumbledore—good looking.

_And aforementioned hot—_hot!—wizard was now taking his hand. Was now raising his hand. Raising his hand to his _mouth_. Was _kissing_ his hand.

"I am Tom Riddle. You are Harry Potter. I am enchanted." Harry was disgusted to realize that Tom-Voldemort-oh _hell_-Riddles-voice was warm and silky. Worse even than Snapes. It was so mesmerizing; Harry wasn't surprised that the man had taken over the wizarding world so easily. All he had to do was say something, and the masses would be putty in his hands.

In response to Tom-Voldemort-_Riddles-_polite introduction, Harry made a faint gurgling noise.

Tom-Voldemort-_RIDDLE_-looked a bit surprised, but then his face cleared. "Yes," he said—Harry felt like warm honey was being poured down his skin—"That's right. The prophecy did say that…" he coughed. (Harry tried to start breathing again.) "Love…would be involved. It seems to have…affected you..A bit more than me…"

"_Perhapsss it is becaussse thisss isss hisss firssst time meeting you. You, on the other hand, have obsssserved him from afar for quite ssssome time. You have grown usssed to it_." Nagini said.

"Hm, you're probably right. Well, what should we do with him?" Tom—dammit!—asked.

"_How sssshould I know?_ _Do what you would with another admirer._"

Tom nodded once before leaning forward and caressing Harry, brushing his unruly hair back from his face.

Harry did the only thing possible in such a situation. He fainted.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one

XxX

When Harry came to his first thought was '_Holy shit, I just fainted._' Then he was terribly embarrassed. What a girly thing to do.

After getting over the fact that while in Tom-Voldemort-_Riddle_'s company he seemed to have been acting _exactly_ like a love-struck girl, Harry registered that he was lying on a bed. The bed was very soft, as was the pillow under his head, and Harry had no inclination to get up.

None, that is, until he felt something suspiciously like scales gliding against his skin.

Harry leapt off the bed so quickly, it wasn't even funny.

"AAAAAAAH!" was the first thing out of his mouth.

The snake—Nagini—yawned. "_Why did you wake me? I wasss having a nice dream_."

"Holy shit!" said Harry. "There's a flipping big snake in my bed!"

"Is there now?" questioned a voice that made Harry pale.

He reluctantly turned towards the door. His new favorite person—Tom-Voldemort-_Riddle damn it_!—was leaning against the doorjamb. Nagini made a contented noise and settled down further in Harry's bed. Tom—Harry had given up—smiled at Harry.

Harry blushed.

"Breakfast?" suggested Tom.

Harry blushed.

_Damn it all to hell_! "Er." he replied.

Tom continued to smile. "Perhaps you would like to clean up first?"

Harry nodded dumbly. And blushed again. He was really getting quite dizzy from all this blushing.

Tom's smile widened, but somehow managed to not become condescending. "Bathroom is right through that door." He pointed to a door.

"Right." Harry mumbled. "Thanks.."

He tried not to run into the bathroom, and barely succeeded. He slapped himself down in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection. He looked the same. Same messy hair. Same green eyes. Same chunky glasses. Same scar. Of course, the scar inevitably made him think of Voldemort. Which made him think of Tom. Which made him blush, _yet_ again. This was ridiculous! The man wasn't even in the same room with him, and he was blushing.

Alright. He just wouldn't think of Tom. Ever again. Or..at least not until he had too.

Harry quickly undressed and stepped into the shower. The longer he was in the bathroom, the longer the time until he had to see Tom again. He took a long shower.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one

**A/N:** Ah, how long it has been, my friends. Well, I probably wouldn't have posted again for a couple of days, but my friend Erica was harassing me. So I re-posted this bad boy. Unfortunatley, I lied when I said there might be a new chapter. Haha.. Now I will let you read. First, a question. For Beauty and the Beast gone HP, would you folks rather see: A) Snape as the Beast, Harry as the Beauty, B) Sirius as the Beast, Remus as the Beauty, or C) Remus as the Beast and Sirius as the Beauty? Do tell. 'Cause..I'm not sure..And..if none of you answer, it will be determined by Erica, who wants option A.

XxX

After all the hot water was used up—and when you had magical plumbing, that took a while—Harry sighed resignedly and stepped out of the shower.

He looked down at his body. It was pink from all his scrubbing. Harry grabbed a large, fluffy, white towel and proceeded to scrub at his body yet again—this time to become dry. When he was finished, he hung the towel up and looked around.

It was a bathroom. There was a toilet and a sink, with a mirror above and toothpaste and other such things sitting in a small alcove next to the mirror. There was also a shower, which Harry had recently vacated. But…there were no clothes. Not even a robel.

"Uh…" said Harry. What the heck was he supposed to do? Just go into the adjacent room in the buff and hope that clothes were somewhere there. Except, Tom could still be in there. For that reason alone, Harry would not have ventured into the next room for a million galleons.

But he couldn't just stand here forever. Working up his courage, Harry grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist. He took a deep breath and poked his head out of the bathroom door.

Tom _was_ still in there. Thank Merlin he hadn't just skipped in.

Tom was lying on the bed, Nagini curled up beside him, napping. Or at least, his eyes were closed. _What the hell am I supposed to do in a situation like this!_ Harry wondered. _Should I just walk in and hope he doesn't wake up?_

"Er." said Harry. He seemed to be a wonderful conversationalist when around Tom.

One of Tom's eyes opened. "Ah," he yawned. "Took you long enough. I was starting to wonder if I'd have to come in and see if you'd drowned."

Harry gulped. That would _not_ have been fun. "Er." he repeated.

Tom raised his eyebrow—in a wonderful imitation of Snape—in a questioning manner. "Yes?"

"Well, you see. I'm sort of ..ah..standing here in a towel." mumbled Harry.

"Oh really?" replied Tom in a rather wolfish way. Harry gulped.

"Yes. And..uh…I was wondering whether or not I could have some clothes..?"

"Oh, but you look so nice like that!"

Harry looked down, and immediately turned scarlet when he realized that he had let the door slid open. Now his chest was entirely exposed to Tom—and Nagini, who was hissing in appreciation. Harry eyed the snake warily.

"Uh..Be that as it may.." he started.

Tom chuckled. "You'd rather be dressed when facing down the Dark Lord—Voldemort himself?"

"Well, I don't suppose that quite crossed my mind. I think I sort of got over being embarrassed by the Dark Lord yesterday when I-" Harry coughed and blushed, "-fainted."

Tom's smile grew wider. It made Harry want to scowl. Stupid good-looking man.

"I suppose that some sort of textiles can be found for you."

"Right.." replied a slightly bewildered Harry. _Who the _hell_ used the word "textiles" in conversation?_

Waving his hand towards a large armoire, Tom smirked. "Robes that would be fitting for a king are in there. Help yourself."

"Thanks," said Harry. He waited for Tom to politely excuse himself so that Harry could be dressed in peace. He didn't.

"Well?" Tom asked.

"Uh." said Harry. "Aren't you gonna…well…leave?"

"Why ever would I do that? You've lived in Hogwarts for nigh on seven years. I'm sure you were forced to change in front of your peers at _some_ point."

Harry tried not to blush. "Er..I suppose. But.." His argument petered out when he realized that there really _was_ no reason for him not to. Except he had the feeling that both man _and_ snake would be watching him. That snake was really starting to creep him out.

Sighing, Harry started out of the bathroom. He clutched his towel tightly around himself and eyed the figures on the bed warily. Both calmly sat and watched. Harry reached the armoire in relative safety and opened it, still keeping one eye on man and snake—which was rather hard, given the angle.

"Holy shit" Harry gasped. The robes…Hundreds of them. And in all colors, too.

There was a light chuckle from behind him. "Yes," said Tom. "I am rather extravagant when it comes to clothing. My one and only vice, I swear to you."

Nagini snickered. Harry shuddered. A snickering snake was _not_ a pleasant thing to hear. Then he peered back into the closet. All these robes were a bit much. He searched though them until he found a plain black one. He drew that out, also grabbing a underrobe which was a dark shade of gray, undecorated except for a light design on the bottom. Kneeling down—making sure that the towel kept him decent—he looked through the drawers until he located the loose pants and tight undershirt that were the undergarments of a wizard. This done, Harry turned to look at Tom. "Shoes..?" he questioned. Tom pointed towards another drawer.

Harry turned again and opened it. Inside were the shoes that wizard-folk wore. They were leather boots, silent and easy to walk in. Harry picked a pair at random. It didn't matter. Shoes were shoes.

He gathered up his selections and turned to look at Tom. He didn't move, just smiled a bit at Harry. "Going to run and hide in the bathroom?"

"Maybe." scowled Harry. If he went to the bathroom, he wouldn't be humiliated, but then he would have lost face in front of Tom. If he stayed in front of Tom, he saved face, but humiliated himself. Either way, he would have trouble facing the man.

He voted for the bathroom. As he turned and marched through the door, Nagini's chuckle—another not-so-very-nice sound—followed him. At least Tom hadn't laughed at him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N:** Wassup. So. Instead of researching that mean thing for biology, I'm awriting! W00t. And...slight..slashy..moment..up ahead/squee/ Oh teh smexy Tom... /swoon/ I..should..write...Snape..slash..I miss him...

So ya punks, how come no one has told me which idea they want for a story! Huhhuhhuh! TT Punks...

I'm gonna eat you all. Not like _that, _you sickos../snickers/ Stupid...gutter for a mind..

XxX

Harry turned to stare at himself in the mirror. He…he looked like an adult. He looked like a real wizard. It must be the expensive robes. All those nice materials and form-fitting parts could make _anyone_ look good.

Peering into the alcove by the mirror, Harry located the toothpaste and toothbrush—amazing how some of the Muggle customs came through to the wizards—and cleaned his teeth. Then—_not_ to buy himself more time—he searched in the alcove for hair gel. Amazingly, there was a tube of it. Grinning, Harry grabbed it and slapped some onto his head. His hair stayed slicked back into a disconcertingly Malfoy-ish look before springing back into its customary sprawl. Harry's frown dissolved quickly. Maybe it was better to look as un-Malfoy-ish as possible.

Suddenly there was a brisk knocking at the door. Harry leapt and stared guiltily at the door. "Ah..Who is it..?" Harry slapped himself. _Who is it_! There were only two intelligent life forms in that room, and only one of them could knock. "Er.." he said.

"Are you putting on makeup, or have you fainted? In case of the latter, I shall prepare to burst open this door in a rather dramatic fashion!" declared Tom.

"Uh..I'm…not..unconcious.." said Harry.

"Ah, putting on your makeup?"

Harry blushed furiously. "I'm not doing that either! I was just..ah..brushing my teeth!"

"Well, hurry up, will you? And what was the point of brushing your teeth? We're heading down to..ah..bit late for breakfast now, isn't it? Brunch, then. I simply _adore_ brunch! Lovely pieces of fruit and sugar-covered bread. Delicious!" gushed Tom.

Harry stared at the door. This was…unorthodox. The..dark lord…liked..brunch? Perhaps he had been knocked unconscious and this was all some sort of odd side-effect from one of Madam Pomfrey's potions. Well, perhaps Snape had slipped him something. _Snape_! What had happened to him!

Bursting out of the bathroom, Harry barely missed tripping over Nagini. But, in the process of missing Nagini, he ended up tripping on the rug that Nagini was lying on. This resulted in him being catapulted though the air and landing on a disgruntled Nagini and a surprised Tom. "Eh?" said Tom. "A bit friendlier?"

"Snape!" yelled Harry.

Tom blinked at him. "Are you okay there? I'm _Tom_. Remember? While I may not be terribly egotistical, I believe I'm a trifle better-looking than Severus. His nose.."

"Shut up!" shouted Harry. "I'm not calling you Snape, idiot! I'm asking what happened to Snape! He helped me out of his rooms, but then, Dumbledore came in just when I left! He said he'd be here as soon as he could be! But he's not here! And..How long have I been here!"

Tom had paled considerably as Harry had carried on, now he was white as marble. "Almost twenty-four hours." he whispered. "Oh no. Severus.." Tom whirled away and stalked out of the doors, leaving Harry to drop to the floor in an ungainly heap. Quickly picking himself up, Harry hurried out of the doors after Tom, who was almost as difficult to keep up with as Snape had been. As they walked he reached into a pocket and pulled out his wand, muttering a quick spell before replacing it.

Tom turned to look at Harry as his robes whispered along the floor. "Sorry," he mumbled before slowing down his pace so that they could walk together. "Dear me..Well, he's survived much, he should be able to withstand a few hours alone with that madman. However..if..No, it doesn't bear thinking about. He hasn't gone into a full Voldemort phase for a few months..He isn't due for another four.."

Harry ignored Tom's rambling and instead concentrated on picking up his strides. "Ah, here we are." Tom turned abruptly, accidentally crashing into Harry in the process. "Ack!" Tom declared as they both went sailing to the floor. "Lovely," muttered the pile of arms and legs. Harry quickly untangled himself and jumped to his feet. He blushed and squeaked at Tom, who was smiling up at him. "Well, rather nice way to lighten the mood, eh Harry? Help me up, would you?"

Grasping the offered hands, Harry pulled and was embarrassed to find that when Tom was left standing, they were disconcertingly close. Tom grinned down at him, his hand rising to briefly brush against Harry's forehead, gently pulling his hair back from his face. Harry turned crimson, but couldn't help the soft sigh that expelled from his lips. His skin deepened in shade when he realized that Tom was…leaning down.

The moment was broken abruptly by a faint cough. Harry jerked away and flattened himself against a near-by wall, desperately wishing for a spell that would allow him to melt into the wall. Tom, however, after a brief flicker of disappointment crossed his face, smoothed his smile out into one of serene confidence. He turned to look benignly at the interruption.

Harry bruised his back while pushing it into the wall, trying frantically to become one with the manor.

"Yes..?" questioned Tom with a slight glance at Harry. He moved to stand in front of him, blocking him slightly from view. Harry was frightfully happy that the man had such wonderful insight.

"You called m'lord. So _sorry_ that I…interrupted." sneered a familiar voice. The blonde boy glared at the partially hidden Harry.

"I did, Draco, thank you for coming so quickly. And…do _try_ not to…interrupt..again..?" Draco winced slightly at the implication that the sight of his lord making out with Potter could be a recurring sight.

"No m'lord. But..the Seer is ready."

"Excellent." With that, Tom swept through a door. The school rivals stood staring at each other.

"So," said Draco. "Sleeping with the enemy, are we? What happened to the _Gryffindore Golden Boy_, eh?"

"Stuff it, Malfoy. If you're working for him, then you _must_ know about Dumbledore."

"Of course _I_ know about him! I am Lord Riddle's _favorite_! He dotes upon me! _And I won't let the chance to become his second-hand man be taken away by the likes of _you! _Stay away from him Potter, or else_!" threatened the heir to the Malfoy fortune.

Harry was not cowed. "Oh come off it Malfoy. I've been threatened by wizards who _eat_ twits like you for breakfast! A little threat like _that_ is going to scare me off? Now come on you git, we've got to see if Snape is alright." Harry turned and stomped after Tom, leaving a pissed off Draco to trail in after him.

"So _Tom_, what's up?" questioned Harry, only a bit nervous about calling the wizard by his name. That would show Malfoy. _He_ could call the man by his _name_.

Tom smirked, as though he knew exactly what was going through Harry's mind. Draco blanched at glowered at Harry. Harry blushed. "Things are going peachily, Harry dear. This-" he gestured to a dark shadow, "Is my Seer. I believe you know him. Try not to faint.."

The figure stepped out of the shadows. Harry gaped for a full minute before fainting.

XxX

**A/N:** Ahholyshit. Looong/cackles/ I..couldn't help throwing in that last part...FAINTING HARRY ROCKS! Hehe... Tom is so fricking suave! I luff him! o-o; /coughs/ He's miiiine! I MADE HIM THE WAY HE IS! AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA/grabs Tom and runs/


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one!

**A/N:** Ah! Another chapter/scowls/ Only 342 words! That's crap man. I spent like two hours writing this baby. Of course..I was also drawing, talking to friends and reading while writing it...But still. Ah well. Have fun with it..

XxX

"_Harry_…_Harry_…_Wake up, Harry_.."

Harry jerked awake. "What!" he screeched. "Did I just bloody faint again!"

There was a snicker from Draco. "Yes, Potter, I'm afraid you did."

"Silence Draco. You would not do well to anger me. And the way you are provoking Harry _is_ angering me. And I'm sure it's not doing anything for my Seer either." snapped Tom.

_Seer_! thought Harry. He turned his head, searching for the Seer. He could have sworn it had been..

"Hello Harry," murmured a soft voice, one that Harry had never hoped to hear again.

"Sir-Sirius?" he asked, trying urgently not to burst into tears. The Seer of Tom Riddle stepped up to Harry.

"Yes, it's me Harry." said Sirius Black.

Harry leapt off the floor and into Sirius's arms. "Sirius! But..what..?" He pulled back to look at the man. This was most definitely Sirius Black, but not the emaciated skeleton from Azkaban that he had grown so accustomed to, no, this was the Sirius of old. His skin was bronzed from long days in the sun, his hair was thick and clean—pulled back into a pony-tail—with only a few tell-tale slivers of white marring its inky beauty. And Sirius was also beautiful. He looked almost exactly as he had in his Hogwarts days—only the shadows in his gray eyes and the lines on his face betrayed his age.

Sirius smiled at him. "Perhaps explanations later, Harry? I believe Lord Riddle was quite impatient to learn what has happened to..Snivel-"

"Black!" barked Tom.

"Er..Snape." continued Sirius.

"Yeah," said Harry, "explanations can wait, tell us what happened to Snape!"

Sirius saluted and then walked over to an unimposing bowl of water placed on a wooden table. He cast a quick _lumos_ spell and then sprinkled a sparkling powder into the water. Then he hunkered down, staring into the water.

After a few minutes of silence, Sirius started upwards. His skin was a faint green color as he looked at Tom and Harry.

"What is it!" demanded Tom.

"Snape..He's..dead."

XxX

**A/N:** /gasp/ SNAPE'S DEAD/nodsgravely/ Yes. I'm afraid so. I just...felt like being totally evil. And..I have succeeded. Don't worry fanatic Snape fans, I too love Snape and will mourn his passing. But..ya know...Don't worry. 'Cause Sirius is back! Siri the Seer/giggles/ And..Perhaps...some Sirius/Remus loving in the future..? And..Poor Draco! ;-; Well..he's a bastard, so it doesn't matter. /hides from the Snape fans/


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**A/N:** /mutter/ I am well aware of how evilI am. You may all beat me with sticks and such. I'm sorry. Truly. Not only am I sorry for how long it's taken to get this chapter out there, but also for its size. /scowls/ I hit a roadblock of sorts, but Erica's incessant whining made me write this. I'm also sorry, but I shan't be writing the new chapter until at the most Sunday, October 9. 'Cause I'm going to a birthday party. Whoo.. For two total nerds..They want Yugioh Cybernetic Revolution Booster Packs..XD Okay then. Bye..

XxX

"Dead!" bellowed Tom. "_Dead_! How is that possible!"

"Well-" began Sirius.

"He's dead!" cried Harry.

"Yes-" Sirius tried.

"Snape is _dead_! Bloody hell!" yelled Draco.

Sirius glowered. "If you'd all _shut up_ for a minute, then I'd tell you idiots!"

All three promptly closed their mouths, though Draco muttered something about insolent traitors. Sirius threw a look at him before turning to Tom.

"Yes, _dead_. From what I saw," he stated, as Tom and Harry started to demand to know the details, "It was not particularly pleasant, and I think we'd all be better off if none of you asked any questions about it."

"I want to know what happened!" demanded Harry.

"_Trust _me. You _really_ don't. All right, all right!" Sirius held up his hands as Tom pulled out his wand threateningly. "But first, a drink." He walked unsteadily towards a cabinet, and fumbled with a bottle of liquor. "Okay," he started, after gulping down a large amount of the whiskey. "He was, ah, tied up..In a very unpleasant manner. And..Well.." Sirius looked over at Harry. "Perhaps..perhaps we could do this without Harry?"

"He'll find out sooner or later anyways." Tom said decisively. "Just tell us."

"Fine," Sirius sighed. "Well, he was trussed up, and there were ..well..knives and such, and they were..well. Let us just say that Snape resembled a Muggle pincushion."

Harry shuddered a bit. Tom noticed and sidled closer, slipping his arm around Harry's shoulders comfortingly. "Well," Tom declared, "I think we've had enough morbid news this morning. Let's go down and eat. I'm starving!" He steered Harry towards the door, motioning over his shoulder for Sirius and Draco to follow. "Too bad we missed brunch.." he murmered to Harry as they left.

Sirius turned to look at Draco, who had not moved from the shocked position he had been entertaining since the news of Severus's death. Shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, Sirius's conscience finally won out and he went to the blonde boy's side. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Draco started and jerked upright, his spine straight from years of aristocratic training. "_Quite_ alright," he drawled. "Now, I believe we're supposed to be going to some sort of lunch?"

Sirius watched as the boy stalked out of the room in a swirl of black robes, much like his head of house had once done.

XxX

**A/N:** Once again, feel free to beat me up. I would, if I could. But, I think I could take me, and I don't want to beat myself up, so I just threatened myself at knife-point, and I promised to write more soon. So. Yeah. Well..I'm off to bed. Nighty-night, all. May your dreams be filled with Tom. For, as we all know, he is only outsmexed by Snape. And, since Snape is dead, Tom wins by default/swoons over Tom/ AHMIGAWD. The Nameless Novel by Lemony Snicket comes out on the 18th! Are you all ready/grabs her Series of Unfortuante Events t-shirt/ I know I am!


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1. Because it still applies.

**A/N:** LYK OMFGZ!11oneoneoe I UPDATED! HOLY SHIZ! Is it the end of the world! I dunno. So, I am sorry fan-people of me. But..ya know...It's updated. Sorry..it's..kinda short..I suppose. But still. I wrote that in like half an hour. Yeah, I have skillz. So, that would explain any errors.

I'm asking the same thing I asked in "Pervy Old Man" I apologize for that story once again...Anyone know of any good vampire! Snape fics? With Snarry in it, of course. Also, any of you play Maplestory? I'm having withdrawl from it. Come and play with me My name is Nixtr. In Broa. On Victoria Island. Happy Mapling!

On to ze story

XxX

As Tom steered Harry downstairs to the dining room, his head was awhirl with thoughts of Snape. _Dead_. Never again would Snape be sneering at him across a room. Never again would he be frowning at Harry's pathetic excuse of a potion. Never again would Harry see that swirl of black robes.

It should have been one of the best moments of his life. Instead, Harry found himself strangely depressed. Perhaps it would have been easier if Snape hadn't died saving him. Always saving him.

Harry was startled out of his thoughts by Tom's stop. "Here we are!" he declared. With that, Tom pushed open the oak doors of the dining room and pushed Harry inside.

There was really only one thing to compare it to. Hogwart's dining hall. It looked almost exactly alike, just a bit smaller. A bit.

Tom skipped over to a seat and motioned Harry over. As soon as Harry reached the chair, Tom pulled it out and gestured towards it elaborately. "Take a seat, dear. You look quite shaken up."

Harry tried to ignore the "dear."

Tom sat down on the opposite side of the table. He stared at Harry.

Harry was uncomfortable.

Just when he believed things couldn't get any more awkward, Draco waltzed in, with Sirius right behind him.

Sirius, of course, sat next to Harry.

Draco, of course, sat next to Tom.

Harry had a quick, nasty thought about what a suck-up Draco was. That, of course, led him to have a mental picture which is better left unsaid.

He flinched and took a drink of the water in front of him, trying desperately to get rid of it.

He scowled at Draco, who smirked at him and moved, if possible, a smidgen closer to Tom.

Tom didn't seem to notice.

"Hm. What do you like, Harry?" Tom asked.

"Uh…Whatever you want is fine."

Tom seemed quite pleased with this, which made Harry question his statement.

"Well, Sirius and Draco both know by now how this works. All you have to do is think of what you want to eat. But, since whatever I want is fine-" Harry marveled at Tom's ability to make that sound dirty-"Then I'll just do it for both of us."

A piece of grapefruit appeared on Draco's plate, while steak and eggs seemed to be Sirius' preferred breakfast. On Harry and Tom's plate's however…

"Uh…isn't..it a _bit_ early for Fire Whiskey?" Harry asked, eyeing the large bottle which had appeared in front of him.

"I suppose. Well, just think it away then." Tom smirked and both their Fire Whiskey's disappeared, leaving in their places cereal. Harry sighed. He could do cereal.

There was silence as everyone dined. Finally, as Harry reached the milk in his cereal, the silence was starting to give him the willies. Tom broke it.

"So, a shame that Severus perished."

"Yeah, I guess. He _was_ a pretty good spy." Sirius admitted reluctantly.

"Pretty good spy indeed! Better spy than you, dirty mutt!" Draco growled.

Harry winced as the two men started throwing insults back and forth.

"He was an excellent poker player."

Tom's out of place comment drew the two out of their verbal spar. All three stared at Tom blankly.

"Severus. He was a grand poker player. All that spy work, you know. Gave him such a blank face. Could never tell what cards he had. Wonder where I'll find another player as good as him. And we had a match scheduled against Lucious and Bella next week too…

"Well, if everyone is finished, perhaps we should all retire?"

The group nodded, still flabbergasted by Tom's statement.

"Okay then. I'm off to the study. Sirius, I assume you're going back to your rooms, and Draco, going to work out?"

Draco and Sirius nodded again.

"Harry, you can come with me."

The group all stood off and headed off to their respective destinations, with Harry trailing along after Tom.

XxX

**A/N:** /snicker/ I know the "Snape played poker" thing is weird. But it's the only reason I wrote this, so be happy for it. It's because I was watching tv, and they have those "Ultimate Poker Champion" commercials on all the time. And I was sitting onday, and I realized, Snape would have a great poker face.

If I knew how to play poker, and for some reason was playing it with the Hogwart's staff, I would not want Snape to be playing. /nods/


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I didn't get Harry Potter or Voldemort for Christmas. T-T Which means I don't own them. Oh well, there's alwaysmy birthday...

**A/N:** A new chapter! Try not to faint. Well, long time, no see, eh losers? Yes, well, shut up. I don't think this is the absolute _best_ I could do, but at least it's out there, hm? And a lot of you are complaining about how short the chapters are. Yes, that's true, they are short. So, as my one and only New Year's resolution: I will not write a chapter less than 1,000 words. Unless of course a shorter one is needed for dramatic flair or something. Yes...

Also, mah friend Erica is writing some odd Tom/Harry story, and it's already 3 pages, so she's already a better person than me. But, she doesn't want to get an account here because she can't think of a good penname. Any ideas for her? The person that comes up with the coolest will...I dunno..get a prize or something...However, that person must also tell me what they won. ...And not a sex scene. I don't write those.

This is the last thing, I swear. I tried to explain everything in this chapter, but since I know what's going on, I may have left something out. So, do tell me if you're totally confused, and I'll try to clear it up.

XxX

Harry was led through a labyrinth of hallways and doors that finally ended in a darkened corridor. Tom suddenly turned and loomed over him. Harry wondered if Tom was about to leap on him and ravish him in a manner out of a bodice-ripper paperback. He twitched and frowned at Tom.

Tom opened a door and ushered Harry inside. "Sit down, sit down! Make yourself comfortable!"

Harry looked around the study, which consisted of a writing desk, a few armchairs, a fireplace, and many, many books, which were stacked haphazardly around the room. He took a seat in one of the armchairs, after moving a large book entitled "How to Serve Man," onto the floor.

Tom moved a step closer, so that their legs touched.

Harry paled.

Tom leered.

Harry tried desperately not to run away screaming.

Tom leaned forwards, so that they were nose to nose. "Now that we're alone…"

Harry fought off a blush.

"..I figure it's time we had a talk."

Harry was strangely disappointed. He scowled at himself.

"So," Tom settled himself in the chair behind the desk, "What would you like to know?"

"Uh…" Harry tried to organize his thoughts. He could actually learn some useful information here, so he'd better take advantage of it. "Well, I suppose to start, I'd like to know what the hell is going on."

Tom blinked. "I had assumed that Severus had explained the situation to you."

"No-well, yes, I suppose that's true. Snape told me all about you and Dumbledore and all the Death Eaters and such, but everything else has put me at a loss."

"Could you be a bit more specific?"

"Fine. What is Sirius doing here! And what is a seer! And when did he become a seer! And more importantly, _your_ seer!"

"To begin…Sirius is being my seer. That is what he is doing here.

A seer is a very rare type of wizard. I'm amazed you didn't learn any of this in your Divination classes… There is only one seer alive at any given point in time. They _see_. They can see _anything_. Past, present, future, sideways. They can see what any single person is doing, anytime, anywhere; Sirius uses water because it helps focus his thoughts. There have even been a few who could see _inside_ people: read their thoughts and feelings. As you can imagine, a seer is a very useful tool to have. And very coveted. Sirius is ranked quite highly here at the manor, and for good reason. He will help us conquer Albus.

He's always been a seer. It is not an ability you can buy; you are born with it.

Likewise, he has always been my seer. His parents told me shortly after his fifth birthday of his prophetic dreams, and I knew immediately what he was. Of course, the Blacks were only too willing to let their little son come to live with me. And it was easy to win over such a young boy.

This is, of course, the reason for the hate which stemmed between Sirius and Severus. Severus was always jealous of the rank Sirius received, and Sirius was envious of Severus' intelligence. Severus gained his position through hard work and perseverance; Sirius' was all luck."

Harry tried to take it all in. But it was too much; he felt himself sway a bit in his chair.

"You must still be exhausted from everything. Nagini will show you the way back to your room. Try to sleep."

Harry staggered from his chair to the door. As it was closing behind him a thought struck him. "Oh!" he pushed open the door and stared in at Tom, who looked back placidly. "What about Snape?"

"Didn't I mention it? We're going to retrieve his body, and then we're going to _kill_ Albus Dumbledore. This means war. Well, sleep tight."

XxX

**A/N:** Yay...Wars are cool. /scowls at herself/ But now I've just made it so that I'll have to write a fight scene or something, and I'm not good at those...So remember dearies, tell me if you're confused. ...I sound like a middle-aged British woman...


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** It's been sixteen chapters. If you haven't figured out that I don't own Harry Potter yet, you need some sort of medical assistance.

**A/N:** Okay. It's been a while, I know. I'm not going to harp on about it or give you excuses. I'm a lazy sonuva-gun and I know it. Get used to it. /scowls at all of you/

Well, now that that's over..I only reread the first bit of this, so the second half may contain a lot of errors or make no sense. Have fun with that.

I went ice-skating today. I didn't fall once. Good for me. And enough with the random crap..

* * *

"War..?" Harry asked. But then the door slammed shut and he had to leap backwards to avoid having his nose chopped off.

"_Yesss, war_," said Nagini, "_I ssswear, don't you ever listen? Now come on, I'm sssupposssed to take you back to your roomsss ssso you get sssome ressst_."

She slithered down the hallway with Harry trailing behind her dazedly. "War," he murmured to himself.

Of course, he'd always known that there would have to be a war. That's what his whole life had led up to, hadn't it? His little skirmishes with Voldemort had all just been a prelude to the Grand and Glorious War of the Wizards, as some people had already begun to call it. After graduating from Hogwarts, Harry was supposed to engage in a battle to the death with Voldemort. The Darkest Wizard of the Age against the Hope of the Wizarding World. Everyone would choose their sides—though if you were a respectable wizard, you would be with Harry Potter; and if you were a Slytherin, or some other unsavory type of wizard, you'd definitely be in the ranks of Death Eaters—and then they would fight.

It would be a marvelous battle, the likes of which had not been seen since Dumbledore was young and in his prime. The spells casting showers of light upon the battlefield, the grassy meadow strewn with the corpses of the evil wizards who had deserved their death. And, naturally, only those nasty followers of Voldemort would be throwing Unforgivable Curses at the brave and gallant knights of Harry Potter. Much too distasteful for the side of the light to do things like that.

And, near the end of the war, the Aurors and Weasley's and Gryffindors would have a moment of panic, of fear, because the Death Eaters were closing in, and people were being hit by hexes and curses and falling down.

But then, in a blaze of light, Harry Potter would appear.

And everyone would know that it was going to be all right, that they wouldn't lose, that Harry Potter—though he was just eighteen, and couldn't even beat Draco Malfoy in a fight—would save them all.

And lo and behold, the savior would ride up—because walking or running just wasn't romantic enough, so he obviously had to be riding a unicorn—to the man who had held the wizarding world in a state of perpetual terror for so long, whip out his wand, and bellow out a thousand-year-old incantation that no one had ever thought to use before.

And He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named would be vanquished. Forever.

Then the Death Eaters, seeing how easily their leader had been slain, would throw themselves to the ground begging for mercy, and Potter's Patriots—because every army needs a catchy name that rolls off the tongue—being a kind and generous lot, would of course let the mangy rats live. And if, instead of a quick and merciful kill—such as the kind the Death Eaters bestowed on much of their victims; just one moment of blindingly green light—the prisoners were stuck in Azkaban, where the worst moments of their lives had to be relived over and over again, or they got kissed by a Dementor, their soul sucked out through their teeth, well, it was just a bunch of Slytherins anyway. Everyone knew the Slytherins were an evil bunch.

And there would be feasts and parties celebrating the demise of the dark lord for the next month, nay year! And Harry Potter, being a gracious young man, would accept his Order of Merlin, First Class, with a quiet and regal dignity, and then he would accept the post of Minister of Magic—youngest one in three hundred years! And he would get married to that nice young Weasley girl—Ginny, and they would have six red-haired, green-eyed children to play with those of Ron and Hermione's—who had also gotten married at the end of the war.

And if some people—namely, Snape—didn't get an Order of Merlin, even after all those years of spying and helping the side of the light, well, he was a greasy git who'd been in Slytherin, and how do we know whether or not he's plotting to become the next dark lord?

And everyone would be happy, and lively music would play in the background as a big rainbow filled the sky and fairies and elves and nymphs and mermaids—pretty ones, not the things in the lake by Hogwarts—would all join hands with the wizards and witches and everyone would sing 'What a Wonderful World'.

Except that wouldn't happen.

For a while Harry had been able to believe that it could happen. That, perhaps, as he got older he would become braver and smarter and be able to resist the pain of Crucio. That he wouldn't be so bloody terrified when he was up against Voldemort.

But now he knew better.

Because his aging mentor was not the good guy. And the villain was actually an attractive, charismatic, nice guy. And the hero of this story…He wasn't sure what he was anymore.

Certainly not the young boy eager for a family, friendship, acceptance, and love that had stepped of the Hogwarts Express almost six years ago.

Neither was he the angry youth that had trashed Dumbledore's office a year ago.

He was something new and different.

And the war would not be something happy.

There would be blood and death, and Tom's side would not be the only one throwing Unforgivables.

And once people had fallen, they wouldn't get up. Families would be torn apart and broken, prisoners of war would be tortured and made insane, and children would lose that innocence that a time of peace gives them, and become orphans besides.

Now, too, Harry knew that the side of light would not win, because without their savior, they would lose their will to fight. And the savior was not on the side of "light" anymore.

No, Harry had realized that he was going to fight—if indeed they wanted him to fight, for he was just a sixteen year old boy and knew nothing of the ways of war—next to Tom.

And when the opposing side saw Harry standing with Tom Riddle…Well. Some would join Tom, some would say that Harry was evil and the next dark lord—and fight all the harder against them—but for the most part they would be confused, and mill about uncertainly. They would be slaughtered.

"_Here we are_," hissed Nagini.

Harry jumped. He had been lost in his thoughts and barely noticed when they had stopped in front of his door.

"_Well_?" Nagini asked.

"Nothing," said Harry. "Thanks for showing me the way."

Nagini started to slither down the hallway.

"Wait," called Harry. Nagini stopped and turned to him. "Am I allowed to send letters?"

The snake gave him a considering look. "_I'll asssk my massster_."

"Thank you," Harry said as he opened the door and stepped into his room.

He hoped Tom would let him send a letter to his friends at Hogwarts. Once they read about Dumbledore's treachery, they would want to come to Tom's manor immediately. Perhaps they could even convince other students. Maybe this war wouldn't turn out to be a slaughter.

Harry wasn't very optimistic on that point.

* * *

**A/N:** Ooo, I use the word 'and' a lot. Shut up. I'm not a bloody thesaurus. It's only fanfiction--grammar is not the most important thing. As is evident by all the authors out there who can't spell or use a period worth shit. LEARN GRAMMAR YOU IDIOTS!

Well, now that I've offended all the morons who can't use grammar and read this fic..

GRAMMAR! I LOVE GRAMMAR/runs off ranting about the stupidity of the human race/


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it.

**A/N:** Hello bitches! I wrote a new chapter! Because I didn't feel like writing the other, new, unknown to you story. Also, I think this chapter is kind of stupid. It's not well-written or anything...

Also, for the other story...Does anyone know whether the books actually ever say the first names of Snape's parents? Because I refuse to look through them all, so I'll probably make things up. Yay...

Aaaaand, guess what? KISSING! Finally. There is a kissing scene. If you can call it that. Shut up man, I'm not good with romantic scenes..

On an unrelated topic, I went to see UltraViolet yesterday. I did not understand any of it. Which is why you should read the comic before seeing the movie. I'm going to see V for Vendetta on my birthday, which is the opening day, which is the day the new season of Avatar: the Last Airbender starts, which is March 17. ...YAY ZUKO!

* * *

Harry waited. He had noticed that in the wizarding world, waiting seemed to take up a large amount of time. Perhaps it was because magical folk lived so long and could wile away the time staring into space, but Harry thought it was more likely because wizards didn't have television. He was sure that most muggles would sit around and do nothing, did, in fact, do just that, except that they did it in front of the television, so that it at least appeared that they were doing something. Wizards could fly, sure, but only if the weather was nice. They could make potions or spells, but who wanted to think all the time? Same with wizard games; they all required quite a bit of brain-power. And as for reading, well, that was nice and all, but the only wizard books Harry had ever seen—even at bookstores—were ones relating to the theory and practice of magic, and things like that. It seemed that, because magic people were actually _living_ the plot that some of the best books in the world have, they didn't feel the need to write. And most wizards were too scornful of muggles to even try and read their books. So books weren't even an escape route.

And so they waited.

Harry was waiting for word from Nagini, waiting to write a letter to Hermione and Ron, and then he would be waiting for them to respond.

Always waiting.

Harry quickly became bored with the most popular wizard pass-time.

Instead of sitting in his room, as Tom had told him to do, Harry decided to wander around the house. Hopefully there weren't too many dangerous artifacts around.

He stood up and walked to the door, his feet cushioned by the deep wine-red carpet. His hand left his side and reached out to take the doorknob between his fingers, twisting it steadily until the door swung open. Harry peeked outside to make sure no one was around. When he saw he was alone, Harry raced out, slamming his door and rushing down the hallway. He chuckled insanely as he ran past closed doors and surprised portraits. Briefly wondering if he was being hit by delayed shock or some other odd thing, he stopped in front of an open door, waiting until he heard a voice.

"Yes Remus, I know. Well, why don't you stop by for a cup of tea? I'm sure Harry would be pleased to see you, and Tom is crazy about you." For some reason, Sirius didn't sound very happy about this last part.

Harry stuck his head around the doorjamb and stared in at Sirius, who was currently fire-talking to Remus, his head stuck in the fireplace, so that Harry could only see Sirius' back.

"Yes, I _know_ you have a lot of work to do. Couldn't you stop by tomorrow? _Plea_s_e_, Moony?" There was a pause. "All right! That's my little werewolf! I'll see you then!" Sirius pulled his head out of the flames and whirled around dizzily. Harry was glad to know that he wasn't the only person made ill by the floo. "Harry, zat you?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "I was tired of sitting around in my room, so I came to find you." It wasn't really a lie. Harry would have started looking for Sirius at some point.

"Well, anyway, I'm glad you're here. I wanted to talk to you." Sirius gestured Harry inside and then shut the door behind him before pointing to a chair.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I know that Tom—I mean, my Lord Riddle, has made sure that Snivel—er, Snape, told you about the prophecy."

Harry nodded.

"You know you have a choice, don't you, Harry? I mean, you could leave! I would help you! Merlin knows I don't want you stuck with some ruddy old man for the rest of your life! You're so young! Only sixteen! I mean, if he were to—Great Scott, he hasn't touched you, has he?" Sirius started bellowing, "I'll bloody kill him if he laid so much as a finger on you! The rutting pedophile! I'll tear that smirk right off his face! Why, I'll—"

Harry decided now was as good a time as any to interrupt. "Sirius? Sirius! Look, he hasn't done anything to me! He hasn't..er..touched me! Okay? So just, just calm down!"

"But he will! Oh, that lecherous old man sure as hell _will_! Disgusting! You're not even legal yet and he's already planning the wedding! More like wedding night! When I get my hands on him…Screw that! Come on, Harry, we're going to go teach your de-flowerer a lesson! No one messes with the Blacks—or Potters, in this case—without retribution! Oh, I'll pickle his eyes and feed them to Buckbeak! I'll rip out his hair, strand by strand, and make myself a scarf! I'll tear out his perfect teeth and make earrings! I'll—" As he ranted on, Sirius grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him out of the room and towards Tom's study.

"Sirius! Will you bloody listen to me! He didn't do anything to me! For God's sake, let me _go_!" Harry beat at Sirius' arm, but without avail.

"—tear out his intestines through his nose and make a necklace! What? Of course he did something to you, Harry! You're just in shock! Rape will do that to a person! He raped you? Dear Merlin, I'll make him _pay_!"

Harry let out a sigh and allowed himself to be dragged along.

"—son of a bitch! I'll saw off his nose and stick it where the sun don't shine! I'll make _sure_ that he'll never be able to have children or do what he did to you to some other poor sap! The _prick_! The _bastard_!" Sirius let out a string of obscenities that would have made the portrait of his mother at the Black house proud.

They had finally reached the door to Tom's study—at least Harry thought so; he was completely lost, but Sirius had stopped in front of a door, so Harry was willing to bet Tom was behind it.

Sirius kicked open the door and pushed through the splintered wood, roaring as he did so. "RIDDLE!"

Tom looked up from his desk, surprise etched on his face. "Hello Sirius. Hello Harry; I thought you were resting…"

"Don't you give me that!" bawled Sirius. "You deflowered my precious Harry! This holy temple," he gestured at Harry, "has been desecrated by _you_!"

Tom blinked and looked at Harry, who heaved a sigh and shrugged. "I don't know what he's talking about. Honestly. He just started shouting about," Harry waved his arms around to encompass the whole conversation, "this."

"Sirius.." Tom started.

"DEFLOWERED!" bellowed Sirius.

"Would you _stop_ saying that!" yelled Harry.

Tom raised his hand to his forehead and started massaging his head. "As the muggles would say, Oy vey…"

"I can't get him to stop…" said Harry.

Sirius, of course, took this statement the completely wrong way. "That's why we're _here_, Harry! To make him stop!"

Harry slapped himself.

"Look!" cried Sirius, "Now you've got him abusing himself! Next he'll start cutting, and then it'll be suicide! You're _not_ cutting, are you?" He grabbed Harry's arm and rolled up the sleeve, frantically searching for a scar or cut. "Okay, maybe not yet. But soon!"

Tom sighed. "Sirius. I haven't _touched_ the boy! I don't know if I've even held his hand! We haven't even properly kissed!" Tom stopped and thought for a moment. "In fact, we should probably be doing more of both of those…"

Sirius started spluttering.

"…It may keep Draco away. Yes, that's a lovely idea! More kissing! More public displays of affection! Grand idea, Sirius! I can feel a promotion coming your way!" Tom smiled jovially and winked at Harry in a suggestive style.

Harry, of course, blushed and looked away in a manner befitting a chaste Catholic schoolgirl.

"But but but!" squawked Sirius.

"Yes, Sirius?" asked Tom.

"_Deflowered_," hissed Sirius.

"Oh," Tom said, "Are we back to _that_?" Suddenly, Tom's face grew dark and dangerous. Harry, for some stupid reason, felt a swoon coming on. "Listen to _me_, Black. The prophecy decreed that we are meant to be. Soul-mates, lovers, spouses. It's _going_ to happen, with or without your approval. And that means there will be kissing and hand-holding, and other nighttime activities. If you do not want to know about it, or see it, then _you can leave_. I do not need you, and you are only alive because I wish it to be so. If I do not wish it anymore, it will _not_ be so. Now get used to it, because it is going to happen. Though I have not touched him yet, _I will_."

Harry felt his face swim with heat, even as his hands went cold; that last had been a promise. Once again, he felt the idiotic need to faint. He fought it off.

Sirius, on the other hand, looked completely drained. "I'm sorry, my master. What you do is none of my concern. I will endeavor to not make the mistake of crossing you again." With that, he turned and left the room.

Harry watched him go, wondering what had happened to his godfather. Then he felt the eyes on him, watching him. He turned slowly, horror-movie style, and met the steady gaze of Tom.

Tom stepped forward, watching Harry as he did so, crossing the room in a few large strides. He was close to Harry, their chests less than a foot apart.

Harry could feel Tom breathing on him, his hot breath fanning Harry's face.

"What…what are you doing?" Harry asked, only a bit breathless.

"Making good on a promise I just made," said Tom.

"What..?" Harry was a bit confused.

"More kissing," breathed Tom. It was the only warning Harry got.

Suddenly Tom swept forward, closing the distance between them with one step, pulling Harry toward him with one arm as the other brushed back Harry's hair. Then Tom's lips were on his, warm and soft and oh-so sweet.

Harry let out a sigh and wrapped his arms around Tom, pressing the other man as close as he could.

There was a knock at the door.

Someone groaned in disappointment, whether it was Tom or himself, Harry didn't know. Tom's arms tightened around him for a second longer, his lips pressed harder to Harry's for one brief moment, and then Tom moved back. Not far. Tom _had_ said that they needed more "public displays of affection" after all.

"Come in," called Tom.

Harry wondered if Tom's lips were tingling as much as his.

A young woman stepped through the door, her hair such a bright red that for a moment Harry wondered what Ginny was doing here, but then he saw her face, and height, and knew it wasn't his Weasley friend. This girl, though with the same pale skin as the Weasley's, was shorter than any Weasley he'd ever seen. She wore a bright green robe, which contrasted with her short, red hair. She also seemed to know what had been going on between the two of them, and, to his embarrassment, seemed disappointed that she hadn't seen them doing it.

"Well, Erica, are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to tell me what you're doing here?" Tom snapped.

The girl jerked and saluted. "Sorry, Mr. Riddle, sir! Nagini sent me to find…you, sir, on behalf of a request, of Harry Potter," she stared at Harry.

Tom waved an impatient hand, "And..?"

"Oh! Yes, well…She said that Mr. Potter wanted to know if he could send letters to his friends! So she had me come and ask you! But Mr. Potter is here, with you, so now my mission seems a bit stupid…" she trailed off.

"Never mind all that…Thank you for the trouble, Erica," Tom said.

The girl commenced staring at Tom, as though trying to memorize his features for later usage.

Tom looked back at her, a tad bit nervously. "You may leave now."

She bounced into a salute before running from the room.

"What an odd girl," said Harry.

"Yes," Tom replied, "I think she has a bit of a crush on me. It's odd. She's nearly, what, fifty years my junior, and still she has the hots for me?"

Harry blushed and mumbled something about _many_ young people having the hots for Tom.

Tom smiled, in a rather self-satisfied way.

* * *

**A/NAGAIN:** ...Yeah. See, this chapter is on _crack_! Sirius amuses me, though. He's always flying off the handle in Snarry fics, so I figured, why the hell wouldn't he freak out if Harry was 'dating' Tom? ...He says 'deflowered' a lot, which makes me laugh. And as for the random-inserted-girl (i.e. Erica), well, let me tell ya, you don't want to know. Let's just say that now I have an opening for killing Erica. In a story. Like I've been threatening her with for the past six months. Take _that, _Erica! Muahahaha and such. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer, yo:** I don't own Harry Potter or Anakin Skywalker. Yeah, I bet now you're interested, eh? Anakiiiiin!

**Author's Notes, yo:** Holy fridge, neh? I bet you thought I was...like...dead. Actually, I almost _was_. You see, I was in a car crash. Broke three ribs, a leg, _both _my arms, and my skull was fractured. So, you see, I couldn't write for a while. But I've only been out of the hospital for a week, and I'm still _so_ sore, and I wrote, instead of resting, like the doctor told me too. Don't worry, I'll be all right! I mean, for a while there, I wasn't sure, but I really will be okay, and writing more! And I wrote an almost long chapter this time, too!

So, send your virtual flowers, and I'll get well even sooner:D

**Caution:** Thar be Star Wars jokes, creepy snakes, and long descriptions of breakfast ahead.

* * *

Harry was back in his room, bundled up in the bed sheets, before he realized that Tom had never answered his question regarding the letter.

He'd just been drifting off to sleep when he suddenly remembered and shot up, throwing back the covers and banging his head on the headboard.

"Ow! Dammit all to—" he shrieked before returning to the matter at hand. Just as he'd thought about asking Tom whether or not he could write to Ron and Hermione—who were probably tearing out their hair in worry by now—Tom had slid over to him and pressed his lips to Harry. And then, after a few more of those delicious kisses, Tom had shooed him off to bed, telling Harry that he had to work on some of the household accounts—which Harry had found remarkably funny. The Dark Lord figuring out how many pounds of butter had been bought that month; hilarious.

In the…er…"Heat of the moment," Harry had forgotten all about the letter. Now though, with his head clear—well, relatively; he had just been on the edge of sleep, after all—he'd remembered.

Rubbing his head absently, Harry pondered. Should he get up now, in the middle of the night, and wander through a potentially dangerous house just to ask something he could ask in a few hours?

Most people would stay in the warm and cozy bed and wait till the bright light of morning. This was, after all, the mansion of a former Dark Lord. Who knew what could be lurking around? Nagini, for one. Harry was not particularly interested in meeting up with the large, leering snake.

But, he was a Gryffindor for good reason. And one of those reasons was impatience. He'd bring his wand, and he'd be fine.

So thinking, Harry hopped out of bed, pulled on a robe, picked up his wand, and left.

_

* * *

Of course, Harry was three corridors away from his room and already completely lost when he realized that he didn't know his way to the dining room, let alone to Tom's rooms._

"Oh bloody _hell_!" Harry muttered. He wondered if there was some sort of locator charm he could use to find his way back to his rooms. He thought there probably was…Unfortunately, he had never paid much attention in Charms.

Instead of staying put, which is what you're supposed to do when lost, Harry decided to keep walking. He would run into someone _eventually_, wouldn't he? It wasn't _that_ big of a house, after all.

…Except that it was a wizard's house. And everyone knew that wizards had a ridiculous tendency to make things hideously larger on the inside than they were outside. And this was probably one of these cases.

But Harry, after all, _was _a Gryffindor, and, for better or worse, he pushed on.

_

* * *

It was a few moments later—and a staircase and corridor later—that Harry realized it was for worse._

He was minding his own business, tripping along and staring at doors, trying to see if anything looked _remotely_ familiar, when something slithered across his foot. Trying not to shriek like a girl, Harry clutched his wand and jerked away. It was, of course, Nagini.

_Great_, thought Harry, _just who I didn't want to see_.

"Er, hello," he said, "Nice night for a walk, isn't it?"

"_Fanccccy meeting you here_." The snake slithered closer and began winding around Harry's legs, much like a cat.

Seeing his opening, Harry plunged in. "Yes—er—where exactly are we?"

Nagini grinned, and Harry shuddered—remember, a grinning snake is not a pleasant thing to behold.

"_Why, do you mean to tell me you're…lossst?_" Harry nodded, a bit hesitatingly. "_All alone, no one knowsss where you are? And lossst. It looksss like Sssanta brought my presssent early, thisss year_."

Harry, feeling a bit disgusted, tried to pull his wand out unobtrusively. Nagini, unfortunately, noticed, and, if anything, her smile grew larger. "_What do you think you're doing, sssnake-boy? What would massster do if he knew you were threatening hisss familiar?_" The snake's scales whispered over the carpet, coming even closer to Harry.

Harry, feeling quite threatened himself, brandished his wand and took a step back. Directly into Tom.

"I'm sure master would quite approve, don't you, Harry?"

Harry squeaked in surprise and slammed into a door, the knob bruising his back. Nagini, too, made a sound of faint surprise. Tom, not at all surprised by his own appearance, said, "Nagini, stop scaring the poor boy. Now get out of here. Go and stalk some mice; the house is filled with them! What am I paying you for? Go on, get!"

Grumbling loudly, Nagini slithered off.

"Now," said Tom, turning to Harry, "What's a guy like you doing in a place like this? Aren't you supposed to be in bed? Growing boys need sleep! And milk! To build strong bones! Fruit, too, probably…Are you getting some milk?"

Slightly bewildered—sometimes Tom resembled Dumbledore _way_ too closely—Harry shook his head.

"No? No milk? Well then, what brings you to the dungeons? You're quite a ways from your room…In fact, I don't think there's _anything_ down here…"

"I was looking for _you_!" said Harry.

"Me?" Tom exclaimed, looking insanely pleased. "Whatever could you want with little ole me?" Belying his last statement, Tom leaned towards Harry, as though the only possible explanation for Harry's late-night excursion could be a midnight-make-out.

Harry frowned at him; there were more important things to discuss than snogging.

"No, no! I wanted to know if I was allowed to write a letter to Ron and Hermione. They'll be very worried—er—Tom! I know I wouldn't be able to tell them where I was—or who I was with, but just a note…" Harry trailed off as he looked into Tom's face.

"Oh, back to that, are we?" Tom sighed. "Look Harry, I understand; really, I do. But…it's not a risk I'm willing to take. And furthermore, Albus has already announced where you are. So you see," Tom smiled brightly, "They're not worried about you! Everything will be fine! Now, if you'll just go back to bed…" Tom pushed him towards a door.

Harry dug in his heels. "Wait a minute! Whaddaya _mean_, Dumbledore's told them where I am? Whaddaya _mean_, they're not worried? What exactly did Dumbledore tell everyone?"

"Oh, nothing of importance! Just that you've joined the Dark Side! Rather pulled an Anakin Skywalker, you know? Those were some excellent movies, don't you agree? I thought Han Solo was very nice-looking. Now, what do you say we both go to bed? Everything will look better in the morning! Especially after a lovely big breakfast! Off you go, now! Just through that door, turn left, and keep going! You'll hit your room right off! Goodnight, now!"

Before Harry could get a word in edgewise, Tom had disappeared.

Trudging through the door, Harry gaped at the carpet. Pulled an Anakin Skywalker? Did Dumbledore really tell people he had joined Lord Voldemort? Did people actually _believe_ him? Well, everyone had believed that in Third Year, why not in Sixth? But would Ron and Hermione? Ron, most likely, would; Ron would believe anything. Hermione, though? She was usually too intelligent to believe as she was told. But…she always believed Dumbledore.

Harry sighed. It looked as though he was stuck here, without contact with his friends. If they truly were friends…

_

* * *

The next morning, Harry had just finished with his morning cleansings and had pulled on a dark blue robe when there was a knock at his door. "Who is it?" he called as he tied up his boots._

"Your escort to breakfast," sang out Tom, "Here to make sure you don't get loooost!"

Harry, wondering vaguely if Tom did some sort of drugs, opened the door. Tom, with a flourish, bowed and extended his arm. "Care for some brekkers, sir?"

Harry smirked and wrapped his own arm around Tom's. "Let's be off! And, about what you said last—"

"Nonsense! We'll talk about it later! Now it's time to gorge ourselves on gorgeous pancakes and sausages and bacon and eggs and grapefruit and whatever other kinds of things you eat for breakfast!"

Harry nodded and the two skipped off down the halls.

_

* * *

After a lovely breakfast of pancakes and sausages and bacon and eggs and grapefruit and whatever other kinds of things you eat for breakfast, Tom dragged Harry off to his study._

"Now," Tom said as he settled himself in his chair and steepled his hands in front of his face in a very Dumbledore-ish manner, "Talk away."

Harry, uncomfortable under Tom's scrutiny, stumbled a bit over his words. "I—er—uh—I…I understand why I can't write to my friends. Uhn…I also…I know that everyone—probably even Ron and Hermione—think that I'm…evil, now. What are we supposed to _do_? I can't hide in the manor forever…And eventually they'll find out where we are, and come for us…So what are we gonna do?"

Tom smiled sadly. "You're a very intelligent young man. You must realize that Albus already knows where this manor is situated. He just hasn't attacked—yet—because it does him more good than harm to let us be. Now that _you're_ here, however, those odds will change. If you'll remember, I told you earlier that we were going to attack. We must, now, hold off our attack. Sirius has Seen something. If we attack now, we will be annihilated. He says we must wait, and I must, I suppose, agree with him…

"So, for now, you're going to learn more about Defense and Offense of the Dark Arts, and try to prepare for the war. After all, I need as many soldiers as I can get! And I'm sure you wouldn't be happy just sitting around while others are fighting…?"

Harry shook his head. "No…Who's going to teach me?"

Tom smiled again. "Me, of course!" Then he scowled at the large piles of papers on his desk. "Well, when I can…We're having Remus come and stay at the mansion, so he'll be able to teach you. It's a pity Severus died; he was one of the best Dark Arts teachers around…Perhaps…There _is_ someone else…I mean, Remus is excellent at theory, but when it comes to the actual practice…But…maybe…I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to make a few calls…If you could entertain yourself for a bit…?"

Harry nodded. "I'll leave you alone. See you later." He leaned forward and gave Tom a peck on the cheek, then left, to wander through the halls.

* * *

**A/Nagain, yo:** Hm, so whatcha think? Yeah, it kind of disgusts me, too. The whole 'Harry must learn how to fight!' thing. So. Original. /gags/ But he _does_ have to learn! No one likes a useless Harry.

Also, I would like this fic to be only 20 chapters...And, yeah, I don't think I'll be able to wrap it up in 2...So, there will probably be a sequel! Shit on a shingle! (That was for you, Anna, darling)

Next (must keep up on my transitions for English next year! XD), for the Other Teacher. ..Yeah, I got no idea. So, if anyone has an idea, feel free to tell me. It can be an actual HP character, an OC (though if that's the case, you'll need to give me a good description), or a real-life person! But...you know, for that last, I need a good description, too. And, I'm kind of talking to the people I know, for that one.

That means _you_, Avery Likelytale, Jander...Pandell? (I forget Bickazer's name..), Neon Leprechaun, ilovemysexynixter, Kynderyn, and Noodelz (...I forget how you spelled it, crazy boy). So if you guys (real life friends, yo) think one of you, or someone else (like Jordan...bahahha, that'd be funny...) should be Harry's teacher, do tell.

LAST, HOMFGZBBQWTFRIDGE!122two I got Loveless 2, and.../flails and dies/ SO COOL. Well, actually, I like the first volume better, but 2's nice, also. Except Soubi's not wearing his purple coat. /sad/ But..gah...zomgz...Kio's neat. Soubi is _so_ awesome! Ritsuka's hair is funny. It's always changing length. ...and sometimes he looks a lot older (more like Seimei)...and I liked when Soubi _crushed_ Sleepless. BAAHAHAH. Radical. And the poor teacher! Mean Zero.

I CAN'T WAIT FOR VOLUME 3!

I'm done fangirling.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **Not belonging to me.

**A/N:** Wow. I finally updated. God. Took me long enough, eh? STFU, man. Tee-hee. Well, in case you're wondering (which you will be, after reading this), I just read _The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_, which kind of explains the style...

I wanna give a shout-out to Avery Likelytale. Without her, I never would have thought of this. So, the basic idea is hers. XD YOU ROCK ANNABUB!

It was a rather sunny morning. Rather…_too_ sunny.

Harry glared out the window suspiciously. Bad things happened on sunny days.

This was a rather stupid view of things, but, in this case at least, it was true.

Scowling, Harry pulled on robes and stomped out the door to breakfast, ignoring—and thereby insulting—Tom.

XxX

Somewhere over Scotland, there were birds flying around, chatting about air currents and having a remarkably good time.

There were some clouds, too, but they weren't chatting. Or, for that matter, having a good time. They were depressed, because there weren't very many of them. The ones there were in existence were thin and looked like a few pieces of translucent spider-webs.

The clouds got into an even worse mood when they were completely torn apart by large, silver machines.

Sullenly, muttering angrily about how _rude_ everyone was these days, the clouds dispersed.

XxX

Breakfast was a rather dull affair. Oatmeal. Harry frowned into his oatmeal. It had gotten even sunnier as he'd stalked through the hallways, gently led by a smiling Tom. Tom loved sunny days.

Sirius' brow creased as he stared into his glass of water.

In the distance—though not _too_ far—there was the sound of low buzzing.

XxX

"Air Force Base, this is Sparrow 2, can you read me? Over."

"Sparrow 2, this is Air Force Base; we read you loud and clear. Report your position, Sparrow 2. Over."

"We're flying over Scotland now, heading back home. Over."

"Understood, Sparrow 2. The practice mission went well then? Over."

"Fine and dandy, Base. New recruits seem to be working out well. No hitches, perfect flying. Over."

"I copy. Return back to the States immediately, over."

"Yessir. Over and out."

XxX

"What _is_ that?" growled Harry, finally throwing down his spoon. It was lost on him that the splattering of oatmeal that flew from the spoon landed in Tom's hair.

Tom shrieked unhappily and grabbed his wand, quickly preformed a spell, and stared at his hair in the reflection of Harry's spoon.

"Sssoundsss…like planesss…" hissed Nagini.

Harry, startled to see the snake curled on the back of his chair, head resting comfortably on his shoulder, jerked and, instead of fainting (as would be expected), manfully grabbed her and threw her at Sirius.

Nagini hit Sirius' glass and broke it quite smashingly.

Sirius, who had been staring intently at that glass (or at least, the water in the glass), frowned heavily at Harry. "I was Seeing something in there!"

"Oh yeah?" said Harry, who was not, on mornings as sunny as this, into being nice.

"Yeah!" shouted Sirius, who was not into people breaking things he was staring intently into. "I was Seeing our simian shoe! (1)"

Harry closed his mouth. "What?"

"I don't know! I was trying to clear things up a bit when you broke the glass!"

"Oh well," muttered Harry, "It's not like it was anything important. Some chimp's flip-flops…"

"Hm." said Tom. "Anyone else think I should try a mo-hawk?"

XxX

"What the _hell_ was _that_, Sparrow 4?"

"Er…"

"Sparrow 4!"

"Well…Sir. I believe I may have hit a button. Sir."

"Which button, recruit?"

"Um. I believe it was a rather small, red button, sir."

"…the one which said 'Nuclear Bomb'?"

"Yes, sir, that was the one. Do you know what it does?"

"It drops a nuclear bomb. Thank God we weren't carrying any or it would've been your neck, recruit!"

"Uh…What would a nuclear bomb look like?"

"What was that?"

"I um..I said, what would a nuclear bomb look like? Sir."

"Why, it's rather large, thin, pointed head…Why do you ask?"

"Well, sir, it's just that I here thought that was the snack machine, sir."

"The what?"

"The snack machine. And well, I thought it might be a good idea if we had some snacks with us. You know. In case the men got a bit peckish, sir."

"…"

"So I had Jones help me haul the thing on board. Sir. Sir?"

"…"

"Sir?"

"Are you telling me, recruit, that you found a nuclear bomb, put it on board your ship, and just hit a button which said 'Nuclear Bomb,' and which, when pressed, drops said nuclear bomb? Is that what you are telling me?"

"Um. Yes, sir. I believe that would be about it, sir."

"…"

"Is this a bad time to say I need to use the restroom?"

XxX

"What is _that_ noise?" asked Harry.

"A simian's shoes, perhaps?" said Sirius.

"It's rather green," said Tom.

They all had time to think, _Green. That's rather ironic._

Then things went all to hell. …Though not in a handbasket. It was rather more like some sort of faux-leopard-print handbag.

XxX

**BOOM!**

**CRASH!**

**ZING!**

**FLOOM!**

XxX

"Oh dear. Does it look like the bomb hit that house?"

"Yes, recruit. I think it _does_."

"…Think they'll be mad?"

"How did you ever pass the IQ test?"

"I'm quite an intelligent person, thank you very much."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Should I go down and see if everyone's all right? Do you think the British army will be very angry?"

"Recruit, I'm going to have to ask you to stop talking to me."

(1): 'Iminent doom' It wasn't clear enough for Sirius to tell that it said 'Iminent doom' and not 'Simian's shoes.'

**A/N:** Right about now you're all going "What the HELL!" I agree.

I might, actually (eventually) write a real last chapter. This is just fun. After a while I'll feel guilty enough that I'll write you guys a neat, long, kick-ass last chapter. You'll love it. Battle scene and romance and comedy. Awesome. First I have to start it. Umumum. Eventually.

I'd like to see what you think. Oh, if you don't know, the Air Force people are Americans. And don't get all insulted if you're American, 'cause I am too. I just don't know the name of the flying...military...things...of any other countries. USA! XD


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** I know you must all be rather excited and/or pissed off that the last chapter _is finally done_.

My birthday's on the 17th, so just think of it as an early birthday present from me to you. ...Whatever.

Just know, I wrote this all in about four hours last night, I have no patience for editing, and by the end I was getting rather desperate to finish it. :D

Also, for everyone I know out there, there's a surprise about half-way through! Muahahah.

**This chapter is dedicated to all those people who reviewed complaining and asking about when this would be posted. This one's for you, dudes.**

ENJOY!

* * *

* * *

The next morning Harry was up bright and early, though he was anything but. Bright, that is. A person cannot really be _early_, now can they? Except of course in the sense that a person could _arrive_ early, but then—

But I digress.

After dragging himself into the shower in the hopes that he'd be awakened, if only slightly, he pulled on a dark violet robe and stumbled around the mansion for a while before finding himself in the dining room.

Two dark heads, one blonde—Harry sneered at Draco—and, no, wait. There were two blondes. _Two _blondes?

Curious, Harry seated himself next to Tom—deftly avoiding both Tom's groping hand and Sirius' anxious face, and looked at the new-comer.

This…could _this_ be the "teacher" Tom had been speaking of…?

This was just a boy. He only looked to be thirteen, if even.

The boy gave him a wide grin.

Harry narrowed his eyes and turned to Tom. "Who's this?"

"Hm, what? Oh, _this_. I thought you were talking about Draco! I was going to say, 'Dear me, boy, you've known him for five years!' This is Zach, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Say hello."

"Hello," said Harry.

"Hi!" said Zach. "Feel free to call me Noodelz. Everyone does!"

Harry had the feeling this was going to be a trying day.

* * *

"Okay, that's good, but you have to kind of…flick your wrist at a degree parallel to the ground, and then swoop the wand towards the trees and then pray."

"…What if there are no trees?"

"No trees? Why wouldn't there be any trees?"

Harry sighed. This was one of the oddest conversations he'd had in his life, and that was saying something, considering the other conversations he'd had with "Call me Noodelz!"

There'd been a few concerning the color of robes and the outcome of battles, the godliness of cows, and a song having to do with…fish heads.

All in all, Harry was rather regretting the death of Snape. At least his craziness had made sense, in a defying-death-working-as-a-spy-for-the-last-twenty-years kind of way.

"Now, you try."

Harry flicked his wrist a few times—apparently inadequately—before Noodelz came over and, rather too enthusiastically, cracked his wrist.

"Son of a bitch you broke it!" shrieked Harry.

"Walk it off!"

Thankfully, at this moment Remus poked his head through the door.

"Hey guys, how's it going?" he asked.

"This bastard broke my wrist!"

"Pansy-boy here got a strain!"

"Ah," said Remus uncomfortably, "Be nice there, boys. I'll just go find a medic, shall I?"

* * *

"And you say you can heal it?" Remus asked.

"Sure thing, sexy," replied the rather short, red-headed girl.

Harry was beginning to think she looked familiar.

"Yeah!" said Noodelz, "Erica's going to be a veterinarian, but I'm sure the spells and stuff are the same for animals as they are for humans!"

"Maybe we should get Tom down here…" Remus began.

At Tom's name, the girl—Erica—jerked her head up from where Harry was looking on worriedly, and squealed. "Tom?!"

_Yes_, thought Harry, _now I remember_.

* * *

Thankfully, Erica hadn't bungled up the spell too badly. (Harry now had bright blue hair, but under the circumstances, he was just grateful that he hadn't turned into a dragon or anything more frightening).

Unfortunately, a mended arm meant he was perfectly able to continue his…lessons.

Muttering about crazy teachers younger than himself, he slammed open the door to the "training room" and immediately wished he hadn't.

He'd just been in the bathroom, staring at his head and scowling at his reflection when it quipped, "That sure won't make you stand out when you're trying to fight a Dark Lord!" Walking in on two people trying to crawl into each other's mouths was not the sort of thing that calmed down his nerves after throwing a few hexes at a mirror. (It had begun insulting his mother after he'd called it a few bad names).

"Jesus-Christ-bananas!" he said.

Zach and Erica jumped apart. "Knock next time," said Erica, who was worrying about him walking in on something a bit more heavy than kissing.

Suddenly, apparently out of nowhere, a girl appeared in the middle of the room, on top of a soapbox. "That's right," she said. "'Jesus-Christ-bananas is exactly the sort of sentiment for this kind of situation. People are here for the action, the adventure, the humor—but mostly in the hopes that eventually the Tom/Harry relationship will progress to some heavy petting (it won't—hahahahahaha). No one wants to read about some pedophile sexing up a pre-pubescent boy (1). And certainly, no one wants to read all about the amorous adventures of a bunch of teenagers. We're here for the magic, the duels, but mostly the Snape.

"In conclusion," she said, sniffing and poking at her glasses, "The second to last book in a series should not include any of the above mentioned junk, HBP sucked, long live Snape, etc."

As quickly as she had come, she disappeared, off to not write fanfiction almost as fantastically as a certain British genius didn't write a hysterically popular set of science fiction stories (2).

"…The hell was that?" asked Harry.

"Wasn't that…?" started Zach.

"Shh!" hissed Erica, "Never saw her before in my life. Nope."

They all did their best to pretend it had never happened.

* * *

Harry eyed the hallway and, when he was sure no one—especially no blonde menace (if you think the word "Malfoy" goes here, alas, you are wrong)—was looking, he burst into Tom's study.

"Harry!" welcomed Tom, "Why, I've hardly had any interaction with you in this chapter! If this was some sort of story, I'd say that the author has quite lost track of where she was going with this and is just plowing through, hoping that eventually, the story will be ended and she can sigh and yell 'I'm never doing _that_ again!' and go back to reading Stephen King novels!"

"…Nice to see you too?" said Harry.

"Yes, that's what I just said. Lemon drop?"

"Er…" said a rather disturbed Harry.

"No? Tea? Well, do sit down!"

Harry glanced around his quickly to make sure he was not surrounded by pictures of old headmistresses and –masters and then sat.

"Now, is this social or…that other word. You know the one I'm talking about."

"The other word."

"Oh," said Tom. "Damn."

"I was just wondering, who the hell is this kid. He's younger than me, he barely knows how to do spells, and he's _American_."

"Ah, that." Tom rubbed at his non-existent facial hair. "Honestly, I don't know what he's doing here."

Harry was about as confused as the person who, hypothetically of course, is writing this rather inane and pointless crap.

"…But you hired him."

"Very true. But I thought it was someone different. Apparently I mixed up the names. Silly me! Actually," Tom lowered his voice to a whisper, "The boy isn't even a wizard! He just runs off his mouth so much you never notice that he never actually does any magic!"

"…Then who's my real teacher?" asked Harry.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I fixed it up very quickly. Mr. Swigart (3) will be here shortly."

* * *

Mr. Swigart was a tall, thin, bald man. He had glasses, earrings, and two tattoos—that we could see…

They were on his forearms: one was the moon and one was the sun.

He enjoyed wearing baggy pants, and was excessively fond of Paul Frank.

Actually, he rather reminded Harry of Snape. (A/N: Except not at all hot…)

His voice was rather hoarse.

After a few minutes as his pupil, Harry learned that it was because the man was always yelling.

"No! Swish and _flick_, Harry! You must _learn _this! Learn, I say! After a week with me, you'll learn enough to defeat that nasty Dark Lord you got over here! But only if you do as I say and _stop memorizing_! You are a memorizer! You must cease it immediately. Now! Attack me!"

Thrown by his sudden change of pace, Harry stuttered for a moment before yelling "Finite Incantatem!"

"Good!" said Mr. Swigart, "But that kind of sucked. Try again!"

* * *

After a week of constant, day in, day out Swigart, Harry was ready to kill someone. Preferably, the Dark Lord Dumbledore.

"Okay dokay," said Tom. "We ready to rock 'n' roll? Let's go kill us some evil guys!"

There was a vague cheer from Draco and Erica.

"Are you insane?" asked Harry incredulously. "It's only been a week! I can't possibly have learned enough to kill anyone."

"You've got a lot of anger, haven't you?" asked Tom.

Harry, who was at that point in time glaring at Swigart, nodded.

"Well, let's rock 'n' roll!"

Again, an unbelievably cool and attractive young lady with some hella-nice shoes appeared on a soapbox. "It is indeed quite hard to believe that in only a week Harry Potter would be able to fight anyone, including me, because I have some leet scratching skills. However, the author is running short on patience and wit—not to mention any marginal talent she might have had—and she desperately wants this blasted story to come to an end. So much so, that she'll continue to put in crap like this in the hopes that—"

Suddenly, the girl turned and saw Mr. Swigart. Her eyes widened, her hands started sweating, and she felt her face turning red. "Oh my freaking God. Not _you_!" With that, she screamed, the high, piercing shriek of someone in mortal terror, and disappeared, never to be seen again. Or so you hope.

"Hells yeah let's go open up a can o' whoop-ass on these mothers!" said an especially vulgar Zach.

"Well yeah, okay. Whatever," said Harry, who apparently never learned that in life you must make your own decisions, don't give in to peer pressure, if everyone else was to jump off a bridge, would you too?, etc.

* * *

It was dawn.

Not a nice, country dawn, either. This was a smoggy, grey, all-around blah kind of dawn.

Perfect for a battle!

Tom's warriors—surprisingly, not a lot; thirty Death Eaters, twenty-five or so people who'd joined up recently, and everyone staying at the mansion. All in all, seventy people, if you were being generous and rounding up.

After much sharpening of swords, waxing of brooms, and checking of wands, they stood around and mumbled about how "some people just didn't know how to be on time!" until Tom remembered that he'd never actually called Dumbledore or told anyone on the other side that they were going to fight again.

Blushing and looking sheepish, he went off to find the nearest fireplace and fire-called the Dark Lord.

"Hello? Albus? Yes, I was thinking we'd have the Big Battle today? Now? Sure, we'll wait. We've got nothing better to do. Okay, see you then.

"He said they'll be here in ten minutes."

* * *

In the end, it was a bit anti-climatic.

Dumbledore's Army (Harry found this a bit ironic) appeared on the field with wands blazing, but the spell-bomb that Swigart had placed there, timed to go off when they arrived, killed or incapacitated 75 percent of their force. Though Harry had thought this to be a bit unsportsmanlike, he couldn't argue that it had definitely turned the fight in their direction; and Swigart was later rewarded with an Order of Merlin, First Class.

The remaining soldiers—a mere eighteen wizards—was a much more manageable force. However, about half of them were elite—highly and expertly trained witches and wizards, and, of course, one of them was Dumbledore.

Many of the remaining soldiers leaped onto brooms and took to the air, and Tom's army quickly followed.

Tom, Harry, Sirius, Remus, and Draco—who hadn't, as Harry had expected, pulled a runner when it came time to fight—continued on, up towards the crest of a hill, where Dumbledore stood.

The others fanned out behind Harry, breaking off to take care of stragglers from Dumbledore's Army, while he continued on, stumbling through bodies while praying not to trip and fall.

Then he was there, climbing up the hill, staring up at Dumbledore.

He was an impressive sight. His robes were a somber—for Dumbledore—neon orange, and they and his beard blew majestically in the slight breeze.

If not for the shining, mad look in his eyes, Harry would have mistaken him for the brilliant, protective mentor of his youth.

But that crazy animal shine _was _there, and Dumbledore had ruined his life, and now Harry was pulling out his wand and pointing it at Dumbledore and shouting "Avada Kedavra!"

Dumbledore hadn't defeated Grindelwald for nothing, though. His wand was already out and saying the reflective spell as Harry was pointing his wand.

The green light flashed out and then quivered as it hid the reflection, shuddering and groaning before pinging back and hitting Harry square in the chest.

There was a bright, blinding flash of pain and then Harry felt himself being swept into darkness.

* * *

When Harry awoke, he was, surprise surprise, in the Hogwart's hospital wing.

Actually—Harry sat up—that _was_ a surprise. What was he…? Hadn't they been in the middle of a battle?

Harry jerked and flailed a bit for his wand as he heard footsteps.

"Heeeeeere's Tommy!"

Harry jerked again and felt his heart stop briefly.

"Now, Tom, I really must protest!" It was Madame Pomfrey.

Harry stared.

Madame Pomfrey smiled at him, told him she'd managed to fix his hair, and then bustled around, checking his heart rate and breathing and other such things before patting him on the shoulder and going to check on the other patients.

Harry looked around at the other beds. There were people in them, but not as many as you'd expect. Of course, that probably meant that most of the people involved in the battle had died…

"What—" Harry coughed and took a sip of water from the glass Tom handed him, "What happened?"

Tom smiled at him and pushed the hair off his forehead. "We won. When I saw that curse hit you…I went a bit wild. Charged up there, attacked Dumbledore—by hand, if you can believe it!—and managed to kill him with a curse of my own. Thank heaven's you appear to be immune, if you can call it that, to the Killing Curse.

"You've actually been out for three days. Had Pomfrey worried there, for a bit. But you pulled through. I knew you would.

"We've staged a bit of a coup. With all our agents in the Ministry, it was easy to take over the government. The civilians have all been a bit confused and angry, which is understandable, but for the most part, I think they've started to accept the truth. We've had agents and the Prophet spewing out the story for the past two days. Of course we've received quite a few howlers, but not nearly so much as we anticipated. And there were casualties, almost all of Dumbledore's Army died, and there was a terrorist group that attacked the Ministry a couple days ago, but everything's been nicely taken care off. It was a neat, quick kill.

"We've won. Now it's time to clean up and celebrate. It's the end of an era. The beginning of a new one.

"Rest for now." Tom leaned forward and kissed Harry's forehead before gently touching his lips to Harry's.

"I believe some of your friends are here to see you. Be kind, and sleep easy.

"I'll be back to see you tonight."

Harry turned to watch him go, and then smiled as Hermione and Ron came in, both clamoring for Harry's attention.

It's all good.

* * *

(1) Yeah…You may think I'm talking about Snape/Harry or Tom/Harry here, but honestly, I'm talking about Erica/Zach. You like that, Erica? Bwhahaha.

(2) I'm not saying that I'm as awesome a writer as Douglas Adams (yes, _that_ was who I was talking about), I'm just saying that if I _had_ deadlines, I'd miss them as fantastically as Adams did. /does gang-signs/ Yeah, Hitchhiker's represent!

(3) Accelerated Algebra II teacher extraordinaire. Man who generally scares the living shit out of this here author without even doing anything.

So there. It's done. Let us never talk about it ever again.

And just to let you know, if I _ever_, for _any_ reason decide to write something bigger than a one-shot, then I am _not_ posting the first chapter until I'm done with the whole stupid thing.

P.S. Hey, everyone I know in Real Life. You like that? Enjoy how I stuck the Swigart in? And I _know_ Sandra loved all the Zach/Erica moments. BAHAHAHA.

P.S. Hey, everyone I don't know. I'm sorry about all that crap with all the people who you don't know. It needed to be done, is all. I apologize, however.

Also, I was just wondering: How many people actually have read this from the beginning? Like, how many people read the first chapter when it came out and are still reading? Anyone? I did not think so.

I'm also sorry about all the Nikki-popping-up-on-a-soapbox stuff. /cough/

See ya later, bitches.


End file.
